


Gods and Goddesses

by nazgulofangmar



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Adventure, Asexual Character, Asexual OC, Dead Men, Dead Men appear in chapter 12 and remain until the end, Elemental Magic, Erskine never killed nobody, Established Relationship, Everybody Lives, Humour, I don't care about canon, Kidnapping, M/M, Mind Control, Necromancy, OCs - Freeform, Poisoning, Torture, adept magic, celtic mythology - Freeform, faceless ones (mention), fights and battles, saracen and dexter are on a case, snark and sass, some gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 23:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 64,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16649500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nazgulofangmar/pseuds/nazgulofangmar
Summary: Saracen and Dexter are on the hunt for a group of thieves who have been cleaning out repositories all over the country.





	1. On the Road

**Author's Note:**

> No particular warnings in this chapter. All still nice and easy, some domestic fluff and a something like a bar fight. Some of you might remember this fic as one I had started some years ago. It's all edited and re-written and finished. =)  
> Enjoy!

“I’m hungry”, Saracen whined with a pout. “And my back hurts.”

Dexter shot him a glance from where he was sitting comfortably in the driver's seat. “Why didn’t you buy anything at the gas station we passed earlier when we had to stop because _you_ needed to pee?” He sighed.

“Wasn't hungry back then”, Saracen mumbled and slouched in the passenger seat of the black Ford Mustang Dexter had _organised_ , although he suspected him of having nicked it off some parking lot.  
Vex pointed over his shoulder. “I still have some sandwiches in my rucksack. Go, fetch those if you want.”

Half-turning in his seat, Saracen fished for the strap of the leather bag and angled it towards himself before picking it up and started rummaging through it. With a cry of triumph he produced two slightly mushy and squished pieces of bread with an unintelligible topping wrapped in cling-foil. Sniffing them suspiciously, Saracen turned to Dexter. “You sure these are still good?”

Vex didn’t answer immediately. He was trying to decipher a dusty street-sign that carved out a miserable existence on the soft shoulders of the road. “Yeah. Anyway, pass me the road map. I think I might need it.”

“What road map?” Saracen wanted to know, having chosen starvation over food poisoning (or worse) and was currently stuffing the slices of bread back into the rucksack, not daring to wonder what else Dexter was keeping in there.

“The one you packed.”

“I didn't pack any road map. I thought you packed it?”

There was a silence. Then. “Shit.”

“How could I have known that-”

Dexter snorted. “Sorry for laughing but every time you say you didn’t know something makes the situation even funnier at the moment.”

“You’re being unfair!” Saracen grumbled, offended. “How was I supposed to know the amulet would drain my magic?”

Vex put on an expression of utter concentration, as though he were thinking about something really intently. “I'm not sure … maybe by reading the sign that said something along the lines of 'DO NOT TOUCH OR YOUR MAGIC WILL BE ABSORBED'?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get the point”, Saracen said and silence enveloped them. “Thanks, though.”

“What for?”

“Helping me getting the stolen amulet back.”

“Don't mention it.” Dexter smiled across at Saracen. “That's what husbands are for, right? To help each other out. To hunt after the very same gang of thieves who managed to nick the amulet from right under your nose. To think that we only go after them because you have to paw everything all the time.”

Saracen smirked devilishly as he reached over to run a finger along the inside of Dexter's thigh. “I never paw anything!”

“Jesus, Saracen! Not while I'm driving!” Dexter swatted his hand away but couldn't help the grin from spreading across his face. “I suppose the sign we just passed indicated a town two miles ahead. We are – admittedly – quite lost and it’s getting dark already. What do you say, let's call it a day and find ourselves a nice hotel? I think the both of us deserve some rest.”

“I don't know if I will let you sleep just yet.” Saracen winked at Dexter who in response shook his head laughing. He could feel the blush spread across his cheeks.

Dexter let the car slowly roll down the dusty main road which was already flooded by the orange light of the street-lamps in preparation for the swiftly advancing night. He noticed that there were little to no pedestrians at all and those who had ventured outside appeared to be in quite a hurry to get back into the safety of their own walls. Shrugging at this, Vex manoeuvred the Mustang into a vacant bay on the parking area in front of a vaguely flashy looking hotel. “What do you say?” he asked as he leaned forward to give the façade of the building another examining look.

“Looks good to me.”

The hotel room itself was spacious yet not luxurious. There was a large double bed with lovely white and beige covers and cosy-looking pillows that had tiny hearts stitched onto them. The slender-legged bedside tables on either side bore reading lamps casting a comfortable yellowish light as well as thin pads and sharpened pencils. Across from the bed, in a corner next to a window leading out on the town, a huge dark-wooded closet clung to the kitschy rosy wallpapers that sported some sort of flowery decoration. Next to it and right in front of the double bed, a fashionable table invited to sit down and have a cup of tea. A vase of fake roses and other flowers rumoured to be romantic was set in the middle of the glass surface of the table.

“I knew this guy was up to something!” Saracen remarked dryly upon seeing their room. “Damn receptionist! How he beamed when we asked for a double bed.”

“Leave him be”, Dexter sighed wearily and dropped his rucksack on a chair standing at the table before collapsing on the bed face-first with a groan. “I love beds.”

“Will you get off!” Saracen slapped Dexter on the butt. “You reek! Go, take a shower!”

Groaning in frustration, Dexter propped himself up on his elbow and shook his boots off of his aching feet. “All right, all right.” He got up and grabbed Saracen by the wrist smiling slyly down at him. “But you're coming with me.”

Saracen smirked and let himself be dragged in the direction of the bathroom. “As you wish, beloved.”

After an hour of childish splashing in an enormous bathtub they had discovered in the surprisingly spacious bathroom, that involved playing with rubber ducks and foam, not to mention sensual kisses, both men were cosily wrapped in the fragrant covers of the bed. They had already turned out the lights and were now cuddling comfortably in the darkness.

Dexter had put his muscled arm around Saracen who lay snuggled up against him, head in the nook between shoulder and chest. Saracen smiled and closed his eyes, stretching an arm over Dexter's bare torso, holding him close. Soon they were fast asleep.

**ooOoOoo**

“Did you sleep well last night?” the waiter beamed at Saracen and Dexter. As it had turned out the enthusiastic receptionist was also playing the role of an over-eager waiter during breakfast. apparently aspiring to read every wish from their eyes. Funnily enough, he almost completely ignored the handful of other guests peacefully sipping their tea and buttering their toasts. His black uniform had razor-sharp ironed creases and the brightly polished name badge he flaunted on his chest had the single word _Noah_ stamped on it.

“Yeah, everything was fine”, Saracen answered with a polite smile while Dexter still tried to pry his eyes open long enough to locate his cup of coffee on the richly laid table. The white tablecloth was nearly invisible beneath the heap of plates, glasses and bowls the Dead Men had balanced on a tray across from the buffet.

“Will you be on your way today again?” Noah fiddled with a damp cleaning rag and his dark brown eyes darted about the room as though he expected something to happen. He replaced the peculiar curl around his mouth with the well-known flashy smile that showed a lot of teeth, although it seemed kind of forced.

“Probably. We have some business to attend to.”

“Good! I mean … shame. Uh … anyway … was everything according to your expectations? Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Could we have breakfast in peace?”

“Dexter, be nice!” Saracen immediately jumped in. “Sorry about him, Noah, but he is just very grumpy in the mornings.”

The waiter's smile wrinkled and his eager air somehow deflated as he nodded courtly and retreated into the kitchen.

Saracen crunched down on his slice of buttered toast and inspected the muesli, picking out the raisins before drowning it in milk. “Come, Dex, don't give the man such a hard time. He’s just friendly, is all.” He snickered at Dexter's glare and his dishevelled look. The blond mob of tousled hair was standing up in all directions and his shirt had a dark stain from where he had already spilled his coffee. There was no doubt about Vex being a complete morning grouch and it was better to leave him in peace before he’d had anything decent to eat.

“I hate friendly people”, Dexter growled and took a sip of coffee. “Especially in the morning. Ew, mornings. People.”

Saracen laughed and amiably patted his arm as he stared at the closed kitchen door. “Although, he did seem anxious about something.”

Dexter frowned, the coffee having revived his senses a little. “Yeah, he was rather fidgety. To think he said it was good we would be on our way today. Isn't that odd to say for an employee of a hotel? Shouldn't he be urging us to stay?”

“Your brain already figured that out? Such a straining deduction before eight in the morning! I'm impressed!”

“Shut up.”

“Maybe we freak him out because we’re a gay couple?”

“Do you remember the pathetic amount of grinning and hyperventilating he did when we checked in yesterday? I think you recall the ridiculous room he has given us or do I have to remind you of that cute heart-shaped imprint on your cheek you woke up with because you have been cuddling that pillow with the kitchy stitchings?” Dexter huffed with a smile and continued his breakfast.

Saracen gasped in mock offence. “I never cuddle anything apart from you!”

Dexter took the hint and draped his hand over his eyes. “Although the imprint from the patterns have almost faded I know that you love it more than me. Am I nothing to you? A fleeting affair that had to end with me on the other side of the bed, drowning in tears of rejection, cold and lonely.”

Suddenly the swing doors leading into the dining hall opened and a group of grim-looking men entered. They were in five, the leader taking in the room with one sweeping gaze before starting towards the two Dead Men. Their approach was not even half as dramatic as they probably were expecting because they had to wriggle their way through the strategically arranged tables. Murmurs grew louder as the sudden appearance of the men was discussed by the other guests. 

Almost at the same time, the kitchen door opened and Noah appeared, smile sliding off his face as he spotted the intruders. He quickly set the tray he had been carrying aside, pushing over a glass of orange juice but paying it no heed and hurried towards them. He intersected them halfway between the door and the Dead Men's table and with a hushed voice immediately started to insistently talk to the arrogant-looking leader. Neither Saracen nor Dexter could make out the words.

Noah apparently had come to an arrangement with the strangers and motioned them to remain where they were as he approached the Dead Men with an ashen face while his fingers were kneading the brim of his shiny black waistcoat. “I'm so sorry, Gentlemen”, he mumbled. “These men … I … please leave.”

Dexter frowned. “You want to kick us out? Is there a problem?”

Noah wore a desperate expression as he clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture. “Please, they have been harassing customers before. Those men talk to everyone who is new in town or just passing through, making sure nobody stays for long. I beg of you to leave before they hurt you.”

“Is that so? How come?” Saracen asked, stealing an unimpressed glance at the fear-instilling wedge-shaped formation the men had taken up as they slowly approached the table in a menacing manner. No worries there.

“I don’t know why but I know that they are not to be reasoned with.” Noah jumped when the leader of the men tapped him on the shoulder and ushered him out of the way. The waiter clutched his waistcoat even tighter as he worriedly looked at Saracen and Dexter who were still comfortably slouched in the cushioned chairs, a relaxed air about them.

“Please, Mr. Brooks-”, Noah tried again but Dexter put a reassuring hand on his arm, his smile suggesting that they had it covered.

The men formed a threatening semi-circle before the two mages who were expectantly looking up at them with raised eyebrows. “Yes? Can we help you?”

Noah gasped in horror, his pale face twisting in fear and the tip of his knobbly nose trembled visibly.

The leader of the group, a man in his beginning thirties, chuckled. He was the only one with a clean-shaven face and his blue eyes sparkled hatefully as he stared down at them. His entire composure radiated violence, reinforced by the obvious bulge of a pistol under his washed-out black leather jacket. Muscled arms were folded before his chest and his stance was broad as he clearly emitted self-control and authority. With four muscled bodyguards it really wasn’t an impressive feat. His brown hair was falling in bangs over his brow but was otherwise relatively short-trimmed. With a sneer he looked Saracen and Dexter up and down. “My name is Spencer Brooks and it will be my honour to send you on your way again.”

Dexter and Saracen glanced at each other, eyebrows almost disappearing into their hairlines, before they burst out laughing, drawing concerned looks from all around the room. It probably came as a surprise to most that the reaction to such a menacing statement was bubbling laughter. Especially since the offenders were obviously armed and heavily outnumbered the two Dead Men.

Saracen nudged Dexter in the ribs but never took his eyes off the growling men in whose demeanour there was now a hint of doubt detectable. “Did he just say he wants to kick us out of town?

“How much money do we have?” Dexter asked undeterred as though he were just out window-shopping and had stumbled upon an unexpected must-have.

Saracen smirked. “Enough, rest assured.”

“You intend to bribe us?” Spencer laughed incredulously. “Do you really think you're going to get off the hook so easily?”

“Right. Then let's get this over with before my boiled egg gets cold. I’ll handle this, Saracen.” When Vex stood the arrogant man had to look up at him to meet his eye since Dexter was half a head taller.

“Saracen?” Spencer drew his eyebrows together and a spark caught his eyes as glanced down at him. His gaze wandered back to Dexter who was towering over him. “You wouldn’t be Dexter Vex, would you?”

With a smile Saracen pushed himself up from the table as well and joined Dexter in towering over Spencer. “Our reputation proceeds us, I see. And what have we here? A bunch of people who think themselves better than the … average citizen?”

Spencer sneered. “They don’t deserve to rule while we are and always will be hunted because we are different.”

“That still doesn’t give you the right to terrorise these people”, Dexter said with a quick glance about. Nobody dared to intervene. “Besides, in my experience, the most power-hungry and oppressive people are those with a certain skill set if you catch my meaning.”

“Hunted because we are different? While you run around threatening people. Shame on you, Spencer”, Saracen added.

Noah stared. The conversation between the men was held in friendly, almost chatty tones and only their strained smiles gave any indication that they were on different terms. He had never seen anyone stand up to Spencer and actually start a conversation. A conversation he didn’t understand a word of. And it was kind of unsettling that Saracen and Dexter appeared to be looking forward to the inevitable brawl.

Saracen crossed his arms before his chest. “If you know our names you will be aware which military branch we belong to and what we’ve done during the War. Let me assure you that we didn’t get our title from picking daisies in the sun. And if you even think about demonstrating your special skills in front of these people, we will be having a big problem.”

The situation had changed. It was Saracen and Dexter who were radiating steel-cold authority now. Spencer had paled a few shades but his expression remained determined. The guests could imagine what was to follow and they didn’t want to hang around to see the inevitable play out before their eyes. Spencer and his companions would break those two strangers; it was five against two. Carefully, they slipped from the dining hall until only Noah remained, glued to the spot.

“Reckon you can take us, mate?” Dexter asked patronisingly, knowing he would hit a nerve.

Raging black thunder-clouds drew together above Spencer's head and his face flushed a deep bordeaux-red as he turned to his friends brandishing baseball bats and short knives. He himself swung his arm back for a mighty punch. “Take them out!”

About a minute later Dexter and Saracen were again comfortably sitting at their table, happily continuing their breakfast as though nothing had happened. Noah was staring wide-eyed at the five unconscious men lying scattered about the room, splintered tables and amazing amounts of shattered dish-ware. Clearly if they had wanted to break this much, they wouldn’t have succeeded. He had followed the entire fight with disbelief, peeking out from behind a serving-trolley that was piled high with dirty cups and bowls. Now he was scrambling to his feet again and approached Spencer who was lying face-down in the midst of the rubble, arms squeezed under his body. Tentatively, Noah poked the man with the tip of his sharply polished pointy black shoe and when there came no reaction he kicked him.

“No, no, you have to do that while he is still conscious”, Saracen laughed and invited the waiter with a gesture to take a seat at their table. He poured Noah a steaming cup of tea and handed it to him. “Here, calms the nerves.”

Noah stared at Dexter inspecting Saracen's muesli before claiming it as his own and crunching down on the crispy bits. “I … you”, he stuttered and looked down at his neatly folded hands. “Thank you.”

Saracen laughed. “What for? Smashing your hotel to pieces? Don't worry, we will pay for the damage. And you don’t have to worry about them any more. We’ll call our boss and he will send someone to pick them up. Is there somewhere we could lock them in in the meantime?”

“What? I … yes. Sure. The cellar perhaps? You said you were military?”

“Military police. Long time ago. Now we are more like free-lancers”, Saracen said, trying to avoid the terms _Suicide Squad, magical army_ and _mercenaries_. “We get our orders from the Government. All very classified.”

“Nobody ever dared to stand up against them”, Noah said quietly kneading his waistcoat again.

“And with 'nobody' you mean the entire town … not taking on five men. I don't mean to insult you but that’s kind of lame”, Dexter pointed out.

“As if! They are but underlings for the dirty work. The wire-pullers are a group of people who have taken over the town about half a year ago. They arrived, had the then mayor, Mr. Andrews, disappear without a trace and claimed his position, taking up residence in the town hall. But I shouldn't be telling you all of this or you will get mixed up in this mess even more than you already have. Those men are dangerous, people who stand in their way vanish or worse things happen to them.”

“What is this, _The Godfather_?” Saracen laughed.

Noah smiled wearily and took a sip of fruity tea only to wince at the bitterness and poured half of the sugar bowl into the cup. “Things have changed around here – dramatically if I may say so. Spencer and his little gang are but the tip of the iceberg. Personally, I don't think the big bosses care about that trifle but they let those who stand under their protection go rampant throughout the city.”

“And what _do_ they care about?” Saracen's coffee had gone cold but he paid it no heed as he leaned forward, eager to learn more. His brown eyes were shining with excitement and Dexter had to stop himself from smiling lovingly. Saracen was always so inquisitive and curious upon encountering a riddle or a something that didn't add up so that he later could claim to have known it all along.

“I really shouldn't say”, Noah hesitated, visibly at war with himself whether to drag these strangers into something they might not be able to get out of alive. “I would not want to endanger you even further …”

Dexter smiled comfortingly at the waiter. “Tell us, we might be able to help.”

Noah snorted unhappily. “We cannot be helped and especially not by just two men – no offence. They have turned this entire area into a smuggler-nest. Every time we tried to contact the police and they ventured out here to investigate or interrogate the persons in question, they exit the town hall completely dazed and don't remember what exactly they had been wanting in this place. We think they are bribed with horrendous amounts of money or simply hypnotized like in those documentaries they show you on television.

“At night black trucks roll through the streets, probably full of stolen goods. They’re transported to an abandoned warehouse at the outskirts of town where they do God only knows what with them. Sometimes the land about is flooded with a strange light and weird sounds fill the night.”

“Those people – what are they like?” Dexter asked.

“They are normal men and women if you don't take their … strange look into account, like they don't really fit in here, some dress in antiquated garments and seem … old or rather wise, even though none of them looks older than forty. We call them The Old Ones.”

“How many are there?”

“About eight or nine.”

“Not more?” Saracen sounded surprised.

Noah blushed and looked down bashfully. “There is no need, they do a pretty good job in converting decent town's people into thugs who in turn restrain the rest of us. Threats, beatings, imprisonments and so forth.”

“Can you tell me the big boss' name?” Dexter wanted to know. If groups of mages were terrorising ordinary citizens like bored soldiers it meant they were part of a bigger group, waiting until they were needed. He hoped the mage responsible wasn’t someone they knew. It always got complicated when personal history was involved. Plus, a no-name mage probably wasn’t as much as a problem as Lord Vile for example would be.

“Uhm … one of them I think is called Leontion Drawn. He is the one Mr. Brooks gets his orders from when he is not up and about to terrorize people. Not that there are many left.”

_Leontion Drawn_. 

Saracen shook his head and shrugged. Dexter hadn’t heard of him, either. So he hadn’t been a big fish in the War but these days all sorts of crazy people popped out of their holes and wanted world domination or at least topple a Sanctuary or two. Skul and Val had a knack of stumbling over these deluded mages.

“Killed?”

“They moved out of town. For the best if you ask me. I would have gone, too but I can’t leave the hotel. I inherited it from my parents and it’s all I got left.”

Dexter looked at Saracen questioningly who nodded in return. “Noah, I'm delighted to announce that this town is of such lovely quality that me and my dear husband have decided to stay a few more days.”

The waiter's eyes widened and he sat up straight in his chair as he gestured wildly with his hands. “No! You cannot! They will kill you … please … Mr. Vex, we can handle this ourselves. I beg of you to leave.”

Dexter leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on Noah's shoulder. “I'm afraid you won't be able to do anything against them but we do. You said it yourself. Police have turned away and everyone else seems to be quite happy to leave as well. Saracen and me, we … uh, are trained in confronting people like the Old Ones.”

“Your military branch impressed Mr. Brooks a lot. What exactly is it?” Noah asked.

“Special division for anti-Mafia … combat. We are the ones standing up for justice and for those who cannot protect themselves, who have never seen battle and do not dare to fight the evil forces at hand. Basically, we burn out those kind of Mafia-clans which are using mortal, I mean, innocent people like you for their own skulduggery.” He ignored Saracen's deadpan look as well as the face-palm that followed and continued to smile encouragingly at the waiter and finally the corners of Noah's mouth twitched into the shadow of a hopeful smile.


	2. Church and Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dexter and Saracen find out more about the thieves than they probably wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again no particular warnings except for more fights and a kidnapping.

After the delicious meal Dexter and Saracen both leaned back in their chairs contently, having enjoyed the peace and quiet of the abandoned dining hall. Just before the short but violent brawl had started the other guests had left their eggs and bacon steaming hot on their plates and had bolted from the room. That there were five unconscious men now lying in various uncomfortable positions around the room had not managed to affect their good mood at all.

Even Noah, the ever-smiling slightly fidgety waiter aka receptionist had left them in the destroyed hall after their little chat; he had mumbled something about soothing the other guests' nerves.

“You had to say it, hadn't you?” Saracen accused exasperatedly and pointed his fork at Dexter.

Vex lovingly petted his filled belly and stretched, arching his back over the backrest of the chair before picking up a spoon, idly playing with it. “What?”

“Skulduggery.”

“It is a perfectly ordinary word to be used in a conversation should the situation demand it. Had Noah been talking about Saracens, I would have been forced to use that term as well”, Dexter lectured with a grin and watched his husband rub the bridge of his nose as if he were fighting an oncoming headache.

Saracen propped his elbows up on the tabletop, lacing his fingers together and leaned forward to raise an eyebrow expectantly. “What's the plan? Do we even have a plan?”

“No.”

“Straight-forward and brutally honest. I like it. Not that it’s going to help us in the current situation we’ve managed to manoeuvre ourselves into. We’re going up against sorcerers in an ordinary town which has never proven to be a piece of cake, especially because there is no way we can use our powers – not in public in front of dozens of gawking civilians.”

Dexter smirked. “Like you're able to call on yours at all.”

Saracen glared but chose to ignore the tease. “Right. Not helping. Should we not concentrate on getting them back before we engage in what is likely, no definitely, going to degenerate into a ridiculously violent brawl at the end of which we are forced to call in to request a mass memory alteration? Again.”

“We are dealing with smugglers here who possibly hire ordinary people or perhaps other mages to steal magical artefacts which are then transported to this warehouse Noah mentioned. I bet the big bosses inspect the goods before either altering them so nobody but buyers would recognize their true worth or selling them right away on the black market.”

Saracen nodded. “True enough … but uh, let's get back to the topic of my still missing powers, shall we?”

Dexter waved his hand dismissively. “Ah, chances are good those people are the very same who nicked that damn thing in the first place. Most likely to flog it off to some rich nobleman who wants to hang it on his wall. All we have to do is stop them from doing so by kicking their asses and get the amulet.”

Frowning, Saracen leaned back and crossed his arms. “What if they don't have it? Or sold it? Or molten it into a chunk of cheap metal and emerald?”

“I'm certain they would be just _die_ to give us all the information we need if we just ask nicely enough and knowing us, that should not be a problem.” Dexter put on an evil smirk but his eyes still sparkled with a joyful glee Saracen had come to love over the years. “Not like your powers gave you exceptional combat skills anyway”, he continued with an impish grin while casually inspecting his fingernails.

“What was that, _honey_?” Saracen stressing the nickname the way he did let Dexter know he was in for trouble.

“Gee, Saracen, I'm teasing! Would never even think of belittling your powers! You saved my life too often for me not to be impressed every time you know stuff that nobody would have guessed might be relevant.”

Saracen was still squinting suspiciously but stopped scowling. “Fine. Let’s put Spicy here into the cellar and go on a reconnaissance through town.” 

“We should be careful. Even Spencer recognised us. We have gained quite the reputation as members of the Dead Men”, Dexter groused and ran a hand through his blond mob of hair.

Saracen waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, we just need the right disguise -”

“No”, Dexter interrupted and pointed a finger at Saracen and narrowed his eyes. “I know what you're going to say next and I’m not gonna wear a dress again. They’re so impractical.”

Saracen smirked. “It suited you!”

Dexter huffed and smiled matter-of-factly. “Well, of course, it was on me.”

“What do you say about just sight-seeing then?”

Vex groaned exasperated as he watched his husband all but bounce on his chair eagerly. “This is just a big game to you, isn't it?”

Saracen and Dexter had decided that they needed more information if they wanted to be able to help at all. Their sight-seeing tour drew the two men towards the enemy-infested townhall. It had turned out in the past that it was always better to be informed about what was going on before confronting offenders with their crimes. There had once been a highly unfortunate incident where the information the Dead Men had been provided had turned out to be wrong. To them it had come as a shock when it was revealed that their contact, the distant relative of the colleague of the son of their friend's sister, had messed up and given them the wrong address. It had been _embarrassing_ for lack of a better word. Apologizing had never been their strong suit and after busting into the living room of an ordinary family who was having dinner and watching a children's movie instead of illegally manufacturing handbags made of werewolf fur, they had been forced to do a lot of bowing and sweeping. They hadn’t been very good at it.

Dexter had tried to interrogate Spencer but he had stoically remained silent. Neither he nor Saracen were willing to use methods they wouldn’t have been proud of so they had simply locked the gang into the boiler-room. It had eventually won the head-to-head race in the competition of the most suitable and convenient storage place to stash their prisoners. It was a relatively warm if stuffy vault and the door was a massive sound-proof block of metal that would withhold every physical onslaught for days. Especially when warded. The only downside and strongest argument in favour of the potato cellar with the iron barred door was that one had to open the door to either feed the men or talk to them.

The couple headed into town and Noah had done his best at giving them directions but somehow Dexter and Saracen were lost – again.

“Why does this always happen when I'm with you?” Saracen asked, genuine curiousness lacing his voice.

“What?”

“Getting lost.”

A smirk crossed Dexter's face. “Well, beautiful, I like having you to myself and what better place is there than a dark alleyway?”, he drawled.

Saracen jabbed his elbow in Vex' ribs and turned his head away to hide the redness flaring on his cheeks. “Shut up.”

Dexter laughed and took Saracen's hand in his, lacing their fingers together as they continued to saunter through the lively streets, occasionally greeting people or taking tourist photos with fascinating statues or façades.

**ooOoOoo**

Leontion Drawn was walking brusquely through the corridors. Suddenly, he felt the tell-tale ache behind his brow of someone trying to communicate through telepathy.

“Mister Drawn”, Spencer greeted.

“Why do you use telepathy?” Drawn didn’t bother masking his irritation.

Spencer cringed internally. “I … uh … I'm indisposed and unable to come round. We … uh ran into a couple of mages and - “

“Don't you DARE drain my energy using telepathy in order to inform me that you got your pathetic arse whipped!”, Drawn hissed inside his mind, feeling satisfaction when his underling shrank back before mustering up some scrap of courage to speak again.

“I have valid information.”

Drawn waited as Spencer made a pause for dramatic effect. He could feel his patience bar diminish, and rapidly. “Yes?”

“Those men were mages and not just ordinary Sanctuary officials. Two members of the Dead Men. Saracen Rue and Dexter Vex. They checked into O’Callaghan’s yesterday. We thought they were just two poofs we could have some fun with but turns out it’s them.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Nothing”, Spencer replied, the pride clear in his voice. Drawn curled his lips in annoyance.

“Thank you, Spencer for your overall helpful observation; your conscientiousness is appreciated and I will take it from here.”

“Thank you, Master. Uh … what about me?”

“What about you?”

“Will I, you know … be rescued?”

“They won't kill you, they are the good guys”, Drawn answered absent-mindedly, letting Spencer know that the conversation was over. He quickened his pace.

In the restricted area of the ominous warehouse, a ginger woman was in the process of checking her notes that were strewn about on her desk. She wore a stylish black suit screaming business at the top of its lungs along with an icy cold expression. She looked up when Leontion Drawn entered her small office.

“Sorry for barging in but I’ve got news, Mila.”

“From the scientists?” Her frosty exterior melted for a second.

Drawn shook his head. “I'm afraid it’s bad news. Two mages have appeared in town and -”

Mila Corvo frowned. She resumed looking through her papers, picking up pens and folders in her search. “I thought I had told you to deal with Sanctuary officials. It wasn’t easy to find and turn a memory alteration specialist and I’d hoped you could do this.”

If Drawn was piqued he didn’t show it. “You will want to hear this, Mila. It’s Saracen Rue and Dexter Vex.”

Corvo stopped in her movement to finish her coffee. She smiled and a business-like calmness took hold of her. Well, well, two of the Dead Men. Oh, how she hated them, all entitled and arrogant in their demeanour, always fighting for the people and the innocent. Corvo's insides grew even colder with anger. At this stage of her project, Dead Men had to come sniffing. “Now that is interesting. We shall know to use this to our advantage. Find me a way to break them.”

“Easy. They are married. Capture one and the other will do just about anything you demand.”

“Won’t that make the other so mad that he will break everything in his path to get to his husband? They are the best of the best. If one snaps instead of breaks, we are done for.”

Drawn shook his head. “Not even an enraged Dead Man could defeat our small army on his own and if you hurt his better half in front of him, he will comply. Love is stronger.”

Corvo smiled. “Brief Ciardha and have the boys pack up. Their first step will be to inspect the town house, I'm sure of it. They can stake out the warehouse all night if they please, the security is too tight. As soon as they return to the hotel I want them captured. Both or just one, I don’t care. Get Yedra on it.”

“Consider it done.”

**ooOoOoo**

Eventually, the two mages arrived at the town hall, pointing at random things just like tourists would when strolling through a foreign town. 

“Goon approaching at your six. I need a distraction to slip away”, Dexter whispered but never stopped taking photos of what he deemed rich architectural achievements. It was mostly pillars with funny-looking things on them.

“Got it”, Saracen acknowledged and raised his voice while pointing at the entrance of the guildhall. “What a marvellous, imposing, majestic gate, don't you think?”

“Absolutely!” Dexter nodded fiercely to underline Saracen's statement just as the guard came to a halt next to them. His movements were smooth, screaming military and while his expression was civilian-friendly, there was no doubt he would take them down should they give him a reason to. Sneezing might already be too much.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?”

Saracen beamed. “Well, I do hope so! Do you work here? Yes? Say, when was this building, well, built?”

“I'm sorry, I don't-”

“The ashlar fundament with those hewn blocks of stone remaining slightly rough to the touch! Beautiful! It is Gothic, right? Or is it by chance even from the Romantic era? Maybe the Carolingians poured their knowledge into this downright awe-inspiring building as well? The profane architecture speaks volumes! You see the achantus-ornaments on top of those pillars flanking the gate? It means those columns were inspired by the Corinthians! The Corinthians, can you imagine?” Saracen saw Dexter slip out of the guard's peripheral vision and duck behind an accurately cut hedge which was encircling the fortress-like building like an additional defence. Before the goon could notice Dexter's disappearance, however, Saracen was already going on about the rich stucco that apparently covered the entire front of the townhall.

He was rudely interrupted in his cultural and architectural excesses when the guard's thread of patience was cut entirely by the static function of the main gate.

“Sir, I need you to leave at once.”

“What? But what about the abstract forms of the ornamen-”

“Get lost or else I'll call the dogs. This is private property … wait a second. Weren't you in two? Where is the other guy?”

Saracen looked about with a steep crease of anger forming on his brown. “This philistine! How can he miss out on the blind arcades which are so prominent -”

“Just shut up already and get lost!”

“All right, all right.” Saracen put on an offended expression which didn't move the goon in the least and went back the way they had come. 

As soon as Saracen had turned the corner, the guard took out his phone and dialled. “They were just here. Vex snook into the townhall. Should we engage? … Ok, yeah, understood.”

Saracen took his time wandering about the streets until he eventually settled down in a vintage-looking café he and Dexter had chosen for their rendezvous on the way here. It was small but cosy and the waiting staff was exceptionally friendly.

Twenty minutes later Vex came sauntering down the road and Saracen couldn't help but noticing how good he looked in his black muscle shirt and the aviators. Hadn't he been in public, there was a high probability he would have started to drool. He fought to turn his cheeks a reasonable colour.

When Dexter finally flopped down into a chair opposite Saracen, he was brimming with curiosity. “So? What do they plan? What kind of scheme to reign over the world did you uncover?”

“Nada.”

Saracen blinked. “What?”

“The townhouse is clean or at least as clean as it can get. Unlike they show in movies, there were no heavy metal doors that require a retinal scan or fingerprint identification. Nor could I find any trace of stolen goods. Even magic seemed to be scarce in the building.”

“What about plans, maps, charts, illegal shipping records? No? Not even a list with contracted assassins?” Saracen wanted to know, the poorly hidden disappointment obvious in his voice. “Not even a parking fine notice?”

Dexter took his lover's hand in his, kissed his knuckles and shook his head sadly. “I'm sorry, baby.” He smirked at Saracen's deadpan look but didn't let go of his hand. “My guess is, they use the townhouse as a front for important visitors such as the police or other public services they can bribe or perform a memory alteration on. On second thought, it looked too clean. It could be that they knew we were coming and packed everything up.”

“So the warehouse is their main base or they moved everything there. Same difference”, Saracen concluded. “I say we check it out, find the amulet, get my powers back and kick their asses.”

“Well said, my dear! Well said indeed.”

It was past ten in the evening when the Dead Men arrived at the warehouse Noah had given them directions to. They had only stopped for a short dinner break before getting ready for their little reconnaissance mission. Vex had parked the Mustang behind the last house of the small town and they had covered the last few hundred meters on foot.

The warehouse turned out to be an ugly slab of concrete set at the border of the forest which already threatened to reclaim some ground. The only thing that kept the trees at bay was a high wire-fence topped with razor-blades and glass shards. There were several smaller buildings meant to look professional and aloft but in reality they were nothing more than fancy garden sheds. The main building, however was equipped with a massive metal roller door that opened via remote control. Unless there was another more stealthy way in, they would have to think of something more complex and overall clever. As for now, they were happy with just watching and observing. 

Saracen and Dexter had had no problems breaching the wire-fence and hiding away behind a conveniently stacked metal containers. Like schoolboys squatting in the undergrowth eavesdropping on their teachers the mages cowered behind the crates, only just peeping out.

“Dex, that woman”, Saracen whispered urgently and fought the impulse to point his finger like a two-year old. Firstly, it was rude and secondly it most likely would have led to them being discovered and executed in a dreadful way. “Isn’t that Mila Corvo?”

Dexter squinted and nodded. “That’s her alright. What is she doing here?”

“Looks like talking to someone on a cell phone to me.”

Vex rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Saracen smirked in the darkness. “Yeah, but it’s way more fun to annoy you.”

“You're an ass”, Dexter grumbled and resumed to watch the red-haired woman. “This is quite troublesome. You know what kind of a religious nut job Corvo is. Wasn't she the one serving under Baron Vengeous? His right hand’s left hand or something?”

Saracen winced as he thought back to the War. “Uh, she was more like a weird priestess who worshipped the Faceless Ones above all else if I remember correctly and believe you me, I do remember correctly. This is bigger than we initially thought.”

“What are the chances she is behind all of this, the big faceless boss Noah mentioned and was too scared to talk about?”

“Did you just-”

“No”, Dexter smirked.

“I swear, you're the worst at making jokes and your puns lack creativity and are just not funny.”

Vex pressed his left hand over his heart and pouted. “Ouch. And I thought I loved you.”

“You love me”, Saracen replied matter-of-factly before turning his attention towards Corvo again. He gently nudged Dexter in the ribs, careful not to move too fast and have them discovered. “Any chance of peeking inside?” he whispered shooting a quick glance at Dexter.

Vex shook his head, still staring intently at the concrete building before them. “Too dangerous. These floodlights turn this whole area into a football-field and I'm sure the place is crawling with guards, dogs and if we are really lucky, vampires.”

“What do we do?” Saracen turned his attention back to the warehouse where Corvo was still speaking on the phone. “You know as well as me that Corvo fought under Baron Vengeous. If she is here, there is some darn godly business involved. You think she still wants to bring the Faceless Ones back?”

Dexter shrugged. “I think we have seen enough and since we now know who and what we are up against, I'd say the safest solution would be to retreat and forge a watertight plan of attack.” With a last slightly concerned glance towards Mila Corvo, he started to crawl backwards, slowly disappearing into the shadows behind him. Saracen followed equally noiselessly. 

It was only back at the hotel that either of them spoke a word. Both had been lost in thought, either thinking of a way to bypass the security of the warehouse or pondering the motives of their enemy. Stolen magical artefacts, a frightened, subdued town in the middle of nowhere and a member of an occult church. How were those pieces supposed to fit together? Well, nothing they couldn't find out by sticking their noses into business that was not theirs and thus better be left alone.

When the mages walked into the lobby and crossed the red fluffy but slightly trod-out carpet, Noah scampered out of his chair and to his feet with a big smile on his face welcoming them. Rounding the desk, the receptionist beamed with poorly concealed joy, making Dexter huff in amusement. Despite the late hour the squirrelly Irishman was still up, similar to a concerned parent unable to get some sleep while their children were out hitting the clubs.

“You made it back alive! To be honest, I was afraid you would come back saying you had changed your mind about helping us like everyone else has done before you. Seeing you healthy as ever really lifts my spirits. Have you found something?”

Saracen smiled and nodded. “Yup. I will let Dexter fill you in about our progress and go on ahead. I have an appointment with a soft and comfy bed.” With a round of amiable laughter at his back and a friendly pat on the butt by his lover, Saracen walked to the stairs and began the long and agonising ascend to the second floor.

The door clicked shut behind Saracen who yawned and arched his back, a pitiful attempt of banishing some tiredness from his body. Relieving himself of his jacket and long-sleeved shirt, he dumped the garments onto the chair at the table. He was about to pull his shirt over his head as well when he felt the hairs at the back of his neck and on his arms rise, making his skin prickle. It was like someone or something was watching him; watching him the way a predator would stalk their prey. Unable to make out an imminent danger, Saracen moved in a deliberate and calculated levity to the massive bed where he knew would be sitting his bag containing more than just one weapon. He casually glanced around the room but could not make out what made him uncomfortable up to a point where he wanted nothing more than arm himself to the teeth.

The door to the bathroom was half-open, gaping blackness beyond. The light of the room only illuminated the threshold. Could there someone be hiding inside? Saracen cursed under his breath. He missed his powers already. Sauntering, he moved to the far side of the bed, putting it between him and the bathroom and casually unzipped his bag but when he looked inside, his scimitar was gone as well as every knife, gun or stick he might have owned at one point. Well, that was highly annoying.

Saracen looked up, an irate vertical crease forming on his brow between his eyebrows. “Ok, we could have settled this with words, maybe one or two punches if necessary but now I'm actually considering fighting you head-on.”

He watched a woman clad in black materialize out of the shadows next to the table. The darkness coiled and slithered around her. “And why is that?”

Saracen drew a dagger from the scabbard on the small of his back which he liked to keep in case it was unfit to drag a scimitar with him; it was rarely tolerated on public means of transportation. “You took all my weapons safe for this right here which suggests you either want to kill me or capture me. Or capture and kill me, which would be even worse. Corvo sent you, eh?”

“I don’t talk about my mission, I carry it out”, the woman replied, her cold voice matching the pale face that looked even more severe since she had her short black hair tied back in a pony tail. Although her figure seemed petite Saracen was not fooled for a second. The long-sleeved black shirt complimented her muscled arms and shoulders and girt at her hip she had a nasty-looking knife. She was an imposing sight, strength and raw power. The most disturbing aspect of her appearance where her pitch-black eyes that bore right into Saracen. 

“You have been doing too much talking for a professional assassin already”, Saracen taunted condescendingly, hoping to hit a nerve. He concentrated on the smallest of movements from the Necromancer. Saracen knew if he made a mistake, the Necromancer could and would wipe the floor with him. With or without using magic.

The Necromancer scowled for a moment, then smiled and suddenly strands of blackness shot up Saracen's body and had he not expected something similar to happen the fight would have been over before it had even begun. Saracen dove sideways onto the bed and pushed himself off before a shadow speared through the covers.

Cursing, Saracen deflected another sharp block of darkness with his narrow dagger and attempted to push forward. Through his provocation he had hoped to learn what the woman's necromancy-item was but she had not even moved and he hadn’t taken his eyes off-

_The eyes._

Eyes as a vessel to capture shadows and darkness and use them to control the night itself. There were always weirdos.

Saracen's lunge came to an abrupt end when he was hit by a blast of air that smashed into his left side and sent him crashing into the small table opposite the bed. The glass plate shattered under his weight and the mage went down in a hail of shards and splinters. Shaking his head Saracen scrambled to his feet again, only to feel tendrils of shadow coiling up his legs.

The Elemental that had appeared out of seemingly nowhere (this never would have happened had he been in full possession of his powers) hurled a fireball which Saracen deflected with his dagger before leaping forward to stab the Necromancer in the chest – she blinked and the shadows around his left leg dug into his flesh, turned sharp and tore away at his skin.

A plan. He needed a plan. _The door? Too far. The window? Too high. If I don't resolve this in the next few minutes, I'm dead,_ Saracen thought frantically as he clenched his teeth against the pain. A scream ripped from his throat as the shadows picked him up and smacked him against the wall next to the bed where he crumpled to the floor. The dagger made a dull muffled sound as it hit the carpeted floor and bounced just out of his reach. Saracen rolled to the side and a fireball burnt a black hole into the rug where he had just been cowering.

Snarling Saracen grabbed his weapon and avoiding thin tendrils of shadow he sprang forward and plunged the blade into the Necromancer's side, making her open her mouth in surprise but no sound came over her lips. Being full well aware of the fact that this manoeuvre had exposed him completely to the Elemental, he readied himself for the inevitable push against the air or fireball. There was no time to move. As soon as his dagger had found its mark he was taken off of his feet and sent sprawling.

A fireball singed his left arm and Saracen hissed in pain but leaped to his feet quickly and almost as agile as ever. Frustratingly, the inflicted stab wound had injured the Necromancer but it didn't seem to bother her at all. Smiling she pulled the dagger from her body and with a flick of the wrist threw it into the bathroom – forever out of Saracen's reach.

“You think this is going to stop me? Is that all you got?”, Saracen taunted the women. He didn’t like his odds: no protective clothing, no weapon and he was outnumbered. Without his magic he was a mortal flailing against two powerful sorcerers. Saracen’s leg throbbed and his arm burnt as though little devils were leaving their fiery imprints on his skin. Plus, his assailants looked more than just confident which stirred Saracen's anger. “Come on!”, he shouted and threw himself at the first person to stand between him and the door.

Saracen's physical attack was met with a spear of darkness. Simultaneously, the Elemental pushed against the air with one hand as though she were wiping an insect off of her freshly washed shirt. Saracen was able to contort his body so that the spear was pushed off course by the gust of air. But he had no time to defend against the roundhouse kick that hit him in the chest. He could both hear and feel one or two ribs crack under the raw strength that was delivered in the kick as he smacked into the rosy wallpaper. Two shadows immediately coiled around his arms, stretching them upwards and to the sides. Saracen's face contorted in pain as the Necromancer controlling the shadows ordered them to grip tighter and even grow a slight edge which cut into the mage's flesh as soon as he moved. It was like this they finally brought him onto his knees.

_Dexter,_ Saracen thought desperately as the black-eyed Necromancer towered over his restrained and kneeling form. _Where are you, baby? Please, I need you._


	3. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dexter finds their hotel room in ruins, Saracen gone.

Throughout the entire conversation with Noah, Dexter couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something important. Centuries of fighting as a member of the Dead Men behind enemy lines had drilled some helpful instincts into him and although the War had ended years ago, he still reacted to these feelings without hesitation. It was what had kept him and his friends alive all this time.

“Are you listening, Mr. Vex?”

Dexter pushed his concerned thoughts to the back of his mind for the moment but never left them completely out of sight. “Sure. Uh, hey, listen, Noah. Saracen and I are very grateful that you're letting us stay for the time of our investigation.”

“Not a problem at all”, Noah shrugged with a smile but turned serious rather quickly. “We ought to be thankful and appreciative of your help and support, Mr. Vex. I cannot think of anyone else willing to risk their lives against a foe so powerful.”

Vex forced a smile onto his lips, his thoughts running back and forth as to what might have triggered his uneasiness. He really hoped all he needed was a bag of sleep and cuddles from Saracen but if experience had taught him anything at all, then it was never to trust the most reasonable explanation. “I think I need to head upstairs as well, make sure Saracen has left some warm water for me.”

Noah nodded. “I will remain here and make sure nobody tries to stab you in your sleep”, the receptionist said, putting on a brave face while at the same time turning bright red when he realized what he had just uttered. “Oh, sorry... I- I uh, didn't, I mean, I …”

Dexter stopped Noah's rambling apology with the wave of his hand, showing him his trademark lopsided smile. “Wouldn't be the first time. Don't beat yourself up about it.” An encouraging pat on the shoulder later, Dexter was heading towards the stairs. With every step his anxiousness increased and his chest tightened with an uncomfortable thought. What if Saracen was in trouble?

_Come on, Vex, Saracen is a big boy, he can take care of himself. Don't you go all overprotective mother-hen on him,_ Dexter chastised himself and even chuckled as the image of him as a hen popped into his mind. However, none of this helped him feel any less concerned and on edge.

“Well, I'll be damned”, Dexter cussed under his breath when he realized the sweat pearling on his brow was caused by a crawling fear stinging under his skin like a thousand needles. 

Dexter reached the door to their room and stared at the plain golden 6 hanging above the small darkened fish eye for a moment. Then he gently rapped his knuckles against the painted wood. “Saracen?” Dexter called softly. When there came no answer, he fumbled the old-fashioned key from his jeans pocket and pushed it into the key hole. “You'd better just be enjoying a bath, mate”, he muttered under his breath and pushed the door open. Dexter drew a small hunting knife.

Dexter stepped into the small corridor leading to the bedroom and adjoining bathroom, his senses sharpened to a shattering degree. Although the light in the main room was switched on, he could not hear anything that gave his husband’s presence away. “Saracen?” he called out again, a wary undertone ringing in his voice. “You here, darling?”

Carefully, the mage peeped into the bedroom and his heart skipped a painful beat. The room was in ruins, the covers of the bed sliced open and singed in more than one spot. Next to the bed he saw that someone or something had burnt out a considerate piece of carpet, the fringy rims of the hole still smoking while the beautiful glass table had been shattered completely. A quick glance into the bathroom uncovered Saracen’s bloody dagger. Dexter’s mind froze as he stared at the blood still dripping from the blade.

_Saracen._

They had taken his husband while he had been busy chit-chatting with Noah, laughing and enjoying himself. Saracen had fought for his life, probably calling out his name in despair but he had not been there. Gnawing guilt threatened to overwhelm him as he pictured Saracen defending himself against an army of hooded figures, sorcerers no less, with no powers helping him. He had not been there for his lover and now Saracen had been kidnapped – or worse. Who knew what they would do to him – if he was still alive.

_Stop! Don't think like that, Vex! You have to calm down. Panicking won’t bring him back,_ he ordered himself, rubbing at his face and trying to keep his mind from slipping. It had happened before. During the War he had lost many good friends, some of whom sacrificed themselves for him. Dexter still carried the guilt of their deaths on his shoulders, unable to ever pay back what he had been given. Once grief took over and the guilt became too much to bear his mind would start to whisper that he wasn’t good enough. That he wasn’t strong enough. 

Dexter had hoped he never would have to deal with something like that ever again. He needed to calm down, nothing was lost, there was still hope. He ran his fingers through his hair, forcing himself to take a deep breath and calm down. Having a breakdown over his husband's kidnapping would not bring Saracen back any sooner. It was up to him to take the situation in hand.

Slowly his mind began to work again, the metaphorical teeth of the gears gripping once more, bringing his thought process back to life. Telling himself positive and encouraging phrases over and over as though he were playing a soothing cassette tape in his head he regained control over his mind again. However, with the ability to think straight once again came the anger. Self-pity was banned to the back of his mind along with overprotective concern. While Dexter still felt horrified as to what they might be doing to Saracen in this very moment he had more or less managed to convince himself that his husband was pretty capable of handling the situation he must be finding himself in. Had there not been countless times either one of them had been abducted during the War? Had they not worn down and annoyed their captors up to a point where reckless bravery and obnoxious bravado had completely overruled the roaring fear within?

Dexter didn't feel brave nor bold. Dexter was furious. White hot wrath surged through his body, filled every corner of his existence and nearly blinded him.

_Saracen._

They had laid hands on his husband, the one person he had promised the rest of his life to, the one person he cared about more than anyone or anything else in this universe and they had hurt him. They had dared to take Saracen away from him.

“That was the only mistake you could have made you jerks”, Dexter whispered. He rounded the bed and picked up his rucksack containing the majority of his weapons and his combat clothes. Or at least that was what he expected to find when he looked inside. While his protective clothes were still there – miraculously, stupidly – everything that could have been used to induce pain had vanished. Dexter raised his eyebrows until they were almost taken in by his hairline, then shrugged and started retrieving the various pieces of his combat suit from his bag. “I don't need no damn weapons to kick your asses”, he hissed under his breath. “I’ll use my fists to teach you a fucking lesson.”

Five minutes later Dexter locked the door to their room and headed to the stairs, a hard expression edged into his face. While he had firmly pushed his guilt and concern to the back of his head, there was still the wrath he had to keep in check, but as Dexter had come to realise it was fuelling him. He had been worried his thoughts would go crazy. However, his strategies and plans materialized crystal clear in his mind. Expecting an assault at any time given, Dexter was hyper-aware of his surroundings when he stalked down the stairs and entered the lobby.

Noah looked up from the book he had been reading, comfortably curled into an armchair that was part of a living room suite placed in the middle of the hotel lobby to invite guests to unite and socialize. There were two dark brown leather couches and a stylish armchair of the same colour fashionably extending one of the sofas. The pieces of furniture were separated by a rectangular glass table with a footrest which offered all sorts of magazines for the guests to browse through. At the far end of the lobby Noah even had a small bar built where he sold coffee and hot chocolate. Right next to it a robust bookshelf clung to the wall, stretching along it and stopping only short of the door. Somehow Noah had managed to turn the lobby of his hotel into a cosy bookshop – only, the books were not for sale but rather for the guests to read at their leisure. So far it had not worked out the way he had pictured it. Most of the time his guests had either no time for this 'dilly-dallying' or simply used the lobby as a WI-FI hotspot. If he had guests. With the Old Ones going crazy in town there had been next to no tourists and those who ventured here were gone the next morning. As much as Noah grieved over this – he had put a lot of love into the assembling of the shelf and consequently bringing it to life by filling it with books – he still felt overjoyed when people were reclining on the sofas.

Noah looked up when he heard steps on the stairs behind him and putting his book aside he half-turned on the couch. Questioning, he raised an eyebrow at Dexter who came striding across the lobby without looking at him.

Clad in perfectly fitting black clothes and boots Ghastly had tailored for him, and a bowie knife strapped to his thigh Dexter looked like a guy you wouldn't want to mess with. He looked really pissed-off, a steep vertical crease almost carved into his brow, the tousled blond mob of hair and the three-day stubble adding to the expression.

“M- Mr. Vex?”

Dexter gave him no heed as he stalked towards the door, a dangerous air about him which didn't stop Noah from prodding.

“You still going out? Alone?”

The mage stopped and half-turned towards the receptionist standing in the middle of his living room suite, looking like a lost ginger kitten. “I've got … investigative things to do.”

Noah stared at him wide-eyed. He was kneading the brim of his waistcoat again. “You want to go after them at night? Don't you need tactical gear or something? At least back-up?”

“Believe me, I'm fine”, Dexter huffed and his eyes caught a sparkle that Noah could not quite place. Fear maybe?

“You're not even wearing protective clothing! What about a kevlar? A shield? A gun? All you have on you is a knife and a sense of danger”, the receptionist pointed out worriedly.

“This is protective clothing, fabricated from a newly invented, highly secure military … fabric.”

“But-”

“I need to go, time is running out.” With a court nod Dexter turned back to the door and started walking.

“Where is Mr. Rue?”

Dexter stopped on the threshold and looked back. “They've taken him.” And with that he vanished into the night.

Noah stared, biting his lip in concern. Taken him? How? Every door except the front entrance were locked. And even then they would have had to pass him to reach the stairs. Had they scaled the building? Noah was worried. It was his fault the men had stayed and were trying to help. Rue had been kidnapped because of him. Noah now also knew what kind of peculiar spark he had noticed in Dexter's eyes. He had seen a man who was about to fight until the death for his husband, he had seen a man who was willing to lay down his life for the person he loved, he had seen a man who sought vengeance.


	4. Ink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saracen is captured and tortured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!!  
> Torture! Poisoning!

Saracen had never been shadow-walked before, especially not through walls and down façades but that was exactly what the black-eyed Necromancer had done once she had restrained his wrists with magic binding handcuffs. What a waste. Saracen had almost laughed in her face when she had pulled them from her belt. Having secured her sneering prisoner, the Necromancer had grinned down at him and grabbed his shoulder tight.

Being shadow-walked was in a way very similar to teleporting – you felt your atoms jingle and tumble about, hoping for them to be rearranged in the proper order on the other side. However, it was not over in the blink of an eye. When being reduced to a two-dimensional shade crawling over the floor and up walls you felt and saw everything; the room tilt and sway, the carpet and tapestry scraping and rubbing against your skin and the unsettling feeling of being trapped.

The Necromancer was, as expected, a specialist in what she did. She was able to fit into the shadows between the window-frame and the board, taking her prisoner with her. Sliding down the façade of the hotel was over in a heartbeat.

During the whole process Saracen dared not move much less fight since he had no clue whether he would just pop out of the shadow like a Jack-in-the-box upon breaking loose from his captor. The possibility of him ending up with his leg suddenly growing out of his chest was disturbingly high and what if he ended up as loose atoms in the atmosphere, condemned to linger in the breeze? Saracen decided to just flow with it – in quite the literal sense.

When Saracen stumbled out of the shadows with a relieved gasp he found himself in the small parking lot at the back of the building.

“What the fuck was that for?” he snarled at the Necromancer who ignored him and had two shadows hold him in place instead as she gazed into the darkness.

Two street lights stood guard on either side of the back door casting a yellowish-orange glow on the first third of the parking area. Apart from a black car parked just beyond the circles of light the fenced-in space was empty.

A gust of wind tore at their clothes and the next second the Elemental who had jumped from the second-story window landed next to them. She had cushioned her fall by compressing the air beneath her, turning an ugly impact into a smooth and noiseless landing. Throwing her hair back, the Elemental raised an eyebrow at the car.

“Who drives?”

The Necromancer smirked impishly. “Me. You’ll have the honour of sharing the backseat with him.”

“Oh hell no, I won't! Just put him in the boot.”

“Fine with me.” The Necromancer shrugged. She manhandled her struggling prisoner in the direction of the car but the mage was not ready to give up just yet.

Saracen first brought his knee up into the woman's abdomen, making her double over and slightly loosen the grip on his upper arm. With his hands cuffed behind his back, he was thrown off balance and had no way of defending himself or shielding his face and upper body. Still, he wrenched his arm free and brought his head in, smacking his brow into the Necromancer's nose as she was about to straighten up again. She howled in pain as blood spurted from her nose, splattering all over her shirt.

Saracen quickly took to running in an incalculable zig-zag-pattern in order to hamper the Elemental's aim. Granted, he must have looked like a weird duckling with his hands tied behind his back but if looking like a baby animal was the cost to save his skin, he would grasp the opportunity.   
All the same, a gust of air knocked Saracen off his feet and sent him sprawling gracelessly. Shadows swirled around him immediately, snaking around his ankles, wrists and neck and picked him up. Saracen was brutally dragged across the ground towards the car and neither struggling nor flailing proved of use. His shirt slipped up and he clenched his teeth as the cold gravel scraped over his exposed skin, digging into it and eventually tearing it.

_Dexter,_ Saracen thought and finally opened his mouth to scream the name of his husband at the top of his lungs. Before even a single sound could come over this lips, another shadow wrapped itself around his face, smothering his attempts of attracting attention.

Eyes blazing with fury, Saracen came to a halt before the Necromancer who just for the fun of it, had him suspended in the air by her shadows as she raised a pitying eyebrow at him. The nose-bleeding had – surprisingly – stopped already and had it not been for the obvious stains on her lips and chin, one might have been convinced nothing had happened at all.

“Shouldn't have run.” The Necromancer wagged her finger and waved to her companion who was leaning against the car, watching in amusement. “Yedra, open the boot, will you?”

The Elemental pushed away from the car and casually opened the trunk as though she weren't about to put a hostage into the refined space. Mock-bowing and sweeping her hand like an over-eager butler she winked at Saracen. “My liege, your carriage awaits.”

Despite his struggles and muffled protests, Saracen ended up stuffed into the boot of the car with a jack poking his broken ribs – seriously, was he not granted one shred of luck? - and very very little space for his legs. The women had chosen a rather small car for their mission and in Saracen's opinion they had done it on purpose. The image of them standing in front of a van and shaking their heads in disagreement popped into his head and he growled. Assholes. In addition he was still cuffed and gagged and his curses as he was tossed about were entirely swallowed by the shadows. The Necromancer was good, really good. He had to give her that much credit.

_Shit, Dexter, what have we gotten ourselves into again?,_ he thought as he was carried off to meet an unknown fate.

**ooOoOoo**

Corvo sat behind the desk in her in-plant-office she had claimed for herself, waiting patiently for her hired hit-team to return to the warehouse. While she _had_ fought for Mevolent on the battlefield, soldier on soldier, taking countless lives, Corvo had always preferred the path of the mind. Not because it was more peaceful – she would kill a person without a hint of hesitation or regret if it would aid her cause – but for the simple reason that it was far more interesting to devour a book or piece of parchment than basking in a sea of slain. Tracing a lead through several volumes, finding the smallest hints and clues between the letters and truly diving into a story or documentation was downright thrilling.

Corvo was in the middle of sorting through some neatly written notes which had captured the essence of a dusty volume the ginger had been consulting. Precise and sharp pencil lines aligned themselves to sketch-like drawings that were sitting in between the wavy letters hugging close to one another. Corvo looked them over again and again, reflecting upon the words, occasionally jotting down the one or other key word on a blank pad of paper. Sooner or later she knew a theory, a plan or a scheme would crystallise before her eyes. She loved research!

The shrill ringing of the mobile phone which lay on top of a pile of books dragged Corvo's reluctant mind back to the here and now. Back into the white-walled office with the obligatory potted plant and the broken coffee machine. She sighed as her surroundings came rushing back to her. She felt as though she had just broken the surface of a dark lake and faced reality once again. Slightly disoriented and irritated she picked up the phone.

“Yes?”

“Target acquired and secured”, Yedra informed her courtly. She was one of those who had been born with the Great War raging on her doorstep and consequently been raised a soldier. It came natural to her to speak in military terms when on mission. Corvo and Yedra went way back and at one point Yedra had even been her superior in rank. Corvo liked to think that the Elemental had agreed to her plan because of their shared past and followed her out of loyalty but truth be told, after the War Yedra had taken on jobs as hired muscle. In other words, Yedra was a first-class mercenary with little to no loyalties and only accepted jobs if she was paid accordingly for the dirty work she did. There had been a time when she had had morals but the War had corrupted the Elemental, moulded her to its own expectations. It had forced her to become a warrior few people looked in the eye without fear.

“Good. Did you per chance get both?”

“Negative. We got Rue.”

“Bring him in”, Corvo said, not being put out in the least that only one of the Dead Men had been captured. She had come up with several individual outcomes of the mission beforehand, each leading to different actions she would have to take now to ensure the success of her own plan.

“Roger that.”

Corvo hung up and slid the mobile phone into her jeans pocket before neatly stacking her notes and putting them into a thick dark blue folder which was already brimming with sheets, notes, post-its and smaller paper folders. Leaving it on the desk in between stacks of books and maps, more notes and sheets covered with curvy handwriting, Corvo stretched her aching back and gathered her hair up into a ponytail.

Corvo headed for the small door of the office which had all the qualities of a loft having been built at the far end of the warehouse, opposite the main gate. With its cuboid shape it was perfectly fitted against the wall, supported by several steel girders, leaving enough space underneath to stack-pile crates. What she particularly loved about the workroom was the wall facing the staging area of the plant: the entire upper part of the wall had been replaced by glass windows, allowing Corvo to overlook the entire area.

Stepping out on a narrow truss catwalk leading to a set of grid support stairs, Corvo descended into the open space that had been cleared of everything related to mortal machinery. All that remained were the handful of control pillars which were used to operate the six receiving doors embedded in the left wall. Each shipping dock was also fully equipped with a pit and lifting platform in case one of the delivery trucks needed immediate repairing. Stretching along the right side were iron shelves that used to hold crates and boxes filled with rubbish mortal goods but now were stacked with magical objects from all over the world. It was the result of almost weekly break-ins, raids and thefts she had ordered over the last half year to accumulate as many artefacts as possible. Little signs divided them into different groups, indicating the danger they posed. Corvo's private little Repository so to speak.

Corvo approached a group of four mages standing around a dozen working benches that had been pushed together, mimicking a scientific laboratory. Currently, the scientists were huddled around a silver amulet, careful not to touch it.

“How are we coming along?” Corvo asked and the group ceased their heated conversation. “Is there a problem?”

One of the scientists, a man in his early fifties going by the boring and overall ridiculous name of Gladius Ferreus – back then everyone had all these stupid Latin names which sound great in Latin but as soon as you translate them you get names such as Iron Sword or Fist of God, Wooden Axe or Glorious Horse – pushed his glasses back up on the bridge of his sharp narrow nose. “The good news are, the amulet is actually the real deal. But you knew that already.”

Yes, Mila remembered having to kill one of her men after he accidentally brushed against the metal and lost all of his powers. Mila had lost her patience with him when he wouldn’t stop skulking about his lost magic. “Go on.” Corvo waved her hand impatiently.

“I’ve never seen anything like it before. The amulet contains massive amounts of energy but it seems to be harmless to mortals. At least none of the mortals we’ve handed it seemed to have gained or lost anything. And none of them died”, a woman offered tentatively. Miss Elaina Steam. She was a petite woman with blond locks falling down her shoulders and bright grey eyes. Just like her colleagues, she wore a white laboratory coat which went all the way down to her ankles and would billow and waft behind her meaningfully once she started walking.

“Interesting. Anything else?”

Elaina shrugged. “You wouldn’t even have had to kill that soldier. We just discovered that the amulet can return energy that has been absorbed. We believe that the amulet has three settings, if you can call them settings: draw energy, distribute energy and kill. But we haven’t tested the last setting yet.”

Corvo leaned in closer, eyeing the amulet with interest. “How does it work?”

Elaina was about to answer when Corvo’s attention shifted to the guard at the main gate. He had just gone for a control panel next to the electric gate in order to open it. “Keep at it. I’ll have a look at your results later but we are running out of time. It was a shame that we only discovered the amulet this recently.”

An orange light began to blink above the gate and the heavy metal wall rolled to the side slowly. A car sped into the warehouse. If you were an admirer of cars and knew all the types by just stealing a glance you could see that it was in fact a BMW 525i, fabricated in 1994. Or you could just read the numbers glued to the back. Either way, it was old and it was more than likely stolen.

Ciardha steered the BMW to the back of the staging area near shipping dock number six where she killed the engine and hopped out of the car.

Perfect timing. Corvo needed to blow off some steam and interrogating a belligerent mage would do her good. She approached the car and raised a questioning eyebrow. “Did something go wrong? Where is Rue?” Yedra hopped out of the now empty vehicle. A concerned frown appeared on her brow. “You didn't kill him, did you?”

“Not to worry. He proved to be quite unmanageable and struggled and cursed a lot so we put him in the boot”, Ciardha explained calmly and rounded the car. “Where do you want him? The cellar? An unmarked grave?”

“Tie him to a chair. I need to interrogate him first.”

“All right.” Ciardha opened the boot and easily parred the kick directed at her. She grabbed Saracen by the front of his shirt and hauled him out of the confined space, bringing her face close to his. “Nice try.” The Necromancer actually smiled and dragged him to the wooden chair Yedra had planted firmly on the concrete floor. Ciardha gracelessly pushed their prisoner into the chair, temporarily securing him with her shadows as she went to take the cuffs off, only to let them snap shut around Saracen's wrists again once she had yanked his arms painfully behind the backrest of the chair. To his great dismay the Necromancer had even thought of threading the short chain of the handcuffs between the bars of the backrest. She had been kind enough to remove his gag, though.

With one fast sweeping look Saracen had taken in his surroundings, the shelves with the stolen artefacts, the shipping docks, the guarded gate and the scientists who were busy bending over a table studying something. To his left he could make out another table overflowing with maps, papers and pens. It looked like the place where plans and schemes came to life. If he turned his head Saracen could see an arrangement of sofas and cushioned armchairs as well as a coffee machine.

“Good evening, Mr. Rue.”

Saracen turned his head in the direction of the voice addressing him and just like he had suspected and feared at the same time, it was Mila Corvo. She was older than he remembered her: little creases showed around the corners of her mouth and eyes yet the latter still sparkled with the same fire they had two hundred years ago. While she _looked_ forty, Saracen knew Corvo had been born during the Renaissance in Italy which put her above the five hundred year mark.

“What do you want?” Saracen let the annoyance become clear in his voice and put on his most determined face. He had heard stories about Corvo's methods and he knew he was in a lot of trouble. Perhaps he could stall or bullshit his way out of this? “You could have called, you know.”

“Don't you _know_?” Corvo smirked condescendingly as she stood before him. When she spoke only the tiniest trace of her Italian accent shimmered through.

Saracen narrowed his eyes and barked a mock laugh. “Funny. But I’m no freaking Sensitive. Also these cuffs tend to put a damper on my magic.” He was in no particular rush to inform the Italian that he was missing his powers altogether.

Yedra waved her hand in his direction. “Your powers are lame. Aren't you supposed to know things? Your performance back at the hotel was pathetic.”

“What do you mean?” Corvo asked curiously.

“Rue knew nothing. He didn't anticipate us even _once_.”

Corvo shrugged. “Perhaps his powers have lost some of their impressiveness. Waned over time or just work differently. But speaking of anticipating. Ciardha, please inform Drawn to be extra careful and double the perimeter guards. Stay outside with them. Dexter Vex should be joining us soon. When you kidnap one the other shows up on his own a few hours later. No risks and certainly no extra work from our side. All we have to do is wait patiently for him to show up.”

“He is too smart for you, Mila, he won’t fall for this pathetic trap.”

“We are definitely not on a first-name basis, _Saracen_.”

Saracen tried a shrug which quickly turned awkward when the cuffs cut into his flesh. “It pisses you off and we are enemies. It’s only natural for adversaries to piss each other off,” Saracen flashed her a winning smile. “So, what are you planning, then?”

“Shouldn't you know?” Corvo asked in surprise.

“I told you I’m not a Sensitive!”

The ginger's brow furrowed in irritation. “That’s not what I meant. Shouldn't you be knowing what I’m planning when you're here to foil my plans? It's what you Sanctuary officials do. And the Elders must be scared if they sent the Dead Men. Have they finally found out about my little scheme or did they send you in blind?”

Slowly it dawned on Saracen, that Corvo seemed to assume him and Dexter were here on official Sanctuary business. Thoughts raced and swirled in his mind as the mage tried to decide which strategical path to pursue in this situation. While he could tell the truth and claim it had been an unlucky coincidence the Dead Men were in town, there was also the possibility to play along to and perhaps find out more about Corvo's plans. The outcome of neither scenario appealed to Saracen, however. Corvo would never believe that it had only been a chance meeting where different events had lead to one catastrophic clash of two sides. The Italian would torture him to find out the 'real' truth and he was not overly fancying that outlook. 

Of course he could stall her by simply admitting he was here to do the Sanctuary's dirty work but then she would torture him to squeeze every little non-existent information about their mission out of him … 

“I confess. I’m acting by order of Grand Mage Ghastly Bespoke of the Irish Sanctuary to arrest you and put a stop to whatever it is that you’re doing.”

“You have no authority over me. Should the Irish Sanctuary make a move on an Italian citizen, our Sanctuary would declare war on yours.”

Saracen could feel the first pearls of perspire forming on his brow. Corvo was making him nervous even though she had not yet given him a reason to, the capture aside. “You’re a wanted criminal, Mila. Not even your own corrupt government would bat an eye if we took you into custody and eventually turned you over to the Italian Sanctuary.”

Corvo laughed and pulled a chair towards her, making herself comfortable in front of him while always maintaining her distance. It felt like a small victory for Saracen to think that Corvo saw him as a threat, even bound as he was. “Perhaps it is so and perhaps it is not. Diplomacy is, however, not the most gripping topic to discuss with a captive. I’m more excited to hear about what you know about me and my crusade.”

“Well … for starters, we don't consider it a crusade but let's not get lost in petty details. Initially we were sent to investigate those thefts which had been troubling the Sanctuary for quite a while now.” Saracen had no idea as to what that religious fanatic might have been planning but since he had opted for the bullshit-train he had to prove he was worthy of riding it. “Especially a certain amulet.”

“Go on.”

Saracen gave her an impertinent grin. “The rest is classified.”

“Is it now? I believe a little persuasion is in demand.” Corvo stood and approached the mage and although Saracen forced his exterior to show complete and utter calmness, his insides turned icy cold at the prospect of what was to come. The first drop of sweat ran down his temple and came to a shaky rest on his cheekbone.

Corvo smiled knowingly but didn’t say anything. She knew her reputation proceeded her and she was intent on playing her cards wisely. Reaching down she traced her index finger over Saracen's upper arm, drawing a simple pattern.

“What are you-” Saracen flinched away and stared at his arm in shock where just beyond the brim of his t-shirt's sleeve a black rune had appeared on his skin. Before he could overcome his surprise, Corvo had already drawn two more runes, one beneath the other, creating a vertical word before retreating again.

“What did you do to me?” Saracen demanded with a hint of panic in his voice. A picture of China Sorrows popped up in his mind and he thought about the devastating consequences her symbol-magic could have. The runes looked like bluish black ink and began to blur at the edges; they seemed to swim on the surface of his skin for several heartbeats before melting into it.

“Tell me, Saracen, what do you know about the amulet?” Corvo's tone of voice had changed and suddenly her entire body language radiated a frigid steel-cold authority.

“Nothing”, he spat defiantly and it was (almost) the truth. The bloody thing was keen on absorbing everything magical in its vicinity and that was the extend of his knowledge.

“What does the Irish Sanctuary know about my plans?”

Saracen opened his mouth to utter the same answer in combination with some profanities but nothing ever came over his lips when an ache flared up in his chest. It felt like he had his already broken ribs bashed again with an iron baseball bat. The mage clenched his teeth as the ache spread to his abdomen and limbs, overly conscious of Corvo observing him with a faint smile tugging at the right corner of her mouth.

“What did ... you do to me?” Saracen ground out and an involuntary gasp escaped him as the ache became a flaring pain setting his skin on fire and burning his insides.

Yedra who was half sitting, half leaning on the table raised an impressed eyebrow at Saracen. There had been countless occasions she had seen Corvo abuse her power to extract information but seldom had she seen a person who would refuse to writhe and shout after thirty seconds of exposure to the black ink. In fact, there had been only one other mage.

“I poisoned you”, Corvo explained matter-of-factly. “It is not fatal, I can assure you but as the poison curses through your veins it will cause you excruciating pain which eventually will drive you mad. At any time I could give you an antidote to end your ordeal but I'm only willing to do that once you either pass out from the pain or tell me what I need to know.” She looked at him smugly. “It really is just up to you, _Saracen_.”

“Fuck ... you”, Saracen managed to hiss between laboured breaths. Sweat was pouring down his face and his fingers constantly clenched and unclenched as he fought the pain with every fibre of his being. Was he only imagining it or had it actually increased? Fiery hot streams of ink coursed through his veins and Saracen felt as though he was being burned from the inside out. His wounded leg throbbed and the broken bones of his ribs ground against one another every time he sucked in a lungful of air.

“What do you know about the amulet?”

“Nothing!”

“Tell me.”

“Nothing, I swear!” Saracen was almost shouting now. He was fighting a lost battle; the poison would more than likely elevate the pain until he lost consciousness and once Corvo had woken him again, she would repeat the process. For as long as necessary.

Yedra pushed away from the table and moved into Saracen's field of vision. “Still no scream … Impressive.”

“Give it some time, he’ll break eventually”, Corvo said confidently and leaned back in her chair, observing Saracen as though she were studying an experiment of hers, ready to jot down the reactions and final results. All that was missing from the picture were a clip board and a pen. Corvo absolutely loved these sort of methods: it was effective, required patience and she definitely didn't have to use physical strength. “In a chatty mood, Saracen?” Corvo taunted with one arm over the backrest of her chair.

Saracen forced his head up, jaw set, the pain evident in not only his face but also the posture of his body. When he tried to double up the cuffs mercilessly kept the mage in an upright position. “No”, he snarled through gritted teeth. A wave of pain smashed into him, stronger and more persistent than ever and before he could stop it, an anguished scream ripped from his throat and resounded in the vast space of the warehouse.

The mages experimenting on the amulet looked up to determine the source of the sudden noise but soon returned to their work. Apparently it was not uncommon in their field of work to witness the torturing of enemy agents.

“What do you know, Saracen?”

It took Saracen several attempts to finally answer his captor in a shaky voice. “N-nothing … I … swear.”

Corvo sighed. “You're quite the stubborn fellow, aren't you?”

Saracen didn't react to the tease nor did he answer; he was busy screaming in agony which had finally torn down his defences and was affecting him in all its madness.


	5. Dexter Vex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dexter meets an ally - or an enemy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!!  
> Torture!  
> Poisoning!

The black '67 Ford Mustang Shelby GT500 sped through the abandoned streets of the small town, the orange lights of the street lamps racing in blurred specks over the hood and roof of the car.

Dexter Vex closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deliberately and let the indifferent blackness of the night rush by him as he sought to concentrate on the task before him. He was about to infiltrate a high-security facility undetected with nothing more than his admittedly awesome magical powers and a knife, locate and rescue his husband and take out Corvo. Easy as pie.

To his left the floodlit warehouse appeared, the main building and smaller huts painted in a wild camouflage pattern of stark light and deep shadows. Dexter continued driving until he reached the border of the forest two hundred meters behind the building where he switched off the headlight. He slowed down to almost a crawl. Slowly, the Mustang rolled onto the pebbly shoulder and Dexter steered it behind some bushes where it was out of sight.

“Alright then. Here we go. You'd better still be alive, Saracen”, Dexter mumbled when he killed the engine and went to check on his meagre equipment: his knife was securely strapped to his thigh and as far as his inspection showed, his combat suit sported no tears. He was good to go.

Five minutes later, Dexter found himself crawling noiselessly through clumps of bushes and general shrubbery, moving parallel to the strong wire-fence where he hoped to find the perfect spot to gain entry. As strong as his desire to speed things up burned inside him, the mage knew he had to completely rely on his calmness and cold proficiency if he had any hopes of getting Saracen out of there alive.

Dexter had approached the compound from a different angle this time – now he was facing the exact backside of the warehouse – where he hoped the number of guards would not be that ridiculously high. Why were main entrances always swarming with guards? Was it not far more reasonable to ensure nobody would sneak in through the back door? Who would ever be stupid enough charge the front gate? Several occasions came to mind where their First Lieutenant had done exactly that. _A bit of creativity, Dexter,_ Skulduggery had said.

Dexter focused on the building. He could make out the shapes of two armed men at the corner of the massive building, apparently talking to one another. Just two; the rest of the army was probably busy staring at the main entrance.

“Waiting it is”, Dexter grumbled and flattened himself against the ground. Spring made it easier for him to find cover between bushes, tall grass and flowers. The harsh light from the compound aided him even further. “A lot of light means a lot of shades.”

Always keeping an eye on the pair of guards, Dexter let his gaze wander. The grey slab of concrete rose almost thirty meters towards the sky and the only windows which might have provided entrance stood twenty-seven meters from the ground. No way he could have scaled the building undetected. Doors and shipping docks? Probably all firmly shut and doubly guarded without doubt.

Dexter sighed in frustration as under his scrutinizing eyes nothing came even close to resemble a way into the facility. Yet, he kept observing. He had already ruled out the smaller huts since it was highly unlikely Saracen was being held captive there. They probably served as accommodations and restrooms for Corvo's people and judging by the amount of guards he and Saracen had seen earlier, the space was needed. However, none of this brought Dexter any closer to the solution. 

Wait, what was that? 

Immediately attached to the back of the building was a smaller rectangular structure he had almost missed. Due to the play of light and deep shadows, an optical illusion was generated of the small building not being there at all. Interesting.

“More restrooms I gather. Most likely for the former workers of the warehouse. Now, that is something I can work with”, Dexter mused, intently studying the square windows approximately two meters above ground level. Would he fit through there?

Dexter's attention was drawn to the guards who had started a sweeping search at the back of the warehouse, opening trash containers, strategically positioned away from the fence and pointing their rifles in every dark corner to check for intruders. Their movements were sharp and clear and Vex had no difficulty recognizing them as soldiers, completely geared to each other. He waited patiently until the pair had returned to their original position at the corner of the building, watching them reach up to their sternums, making sure their equipment was functioning before calling in a report.

Dexter checked his watch. 1.25 a.m.

Time trickled by, agonising second after agonising second. Ten minutes passed painstakingly slow, but eventually Dexter was rewarded when the guards started their next patrol while he readied himself. He would act as soon as the patrol was heading back to their designated corner. In what way he would act, was still beyond him; Dexter had always considered himself a genius of impromptu actions.

Vex was actually weighing the risk of putting the two soldiers out of the equation. It was swings and roundabouts, really. If he did manage to take the guards out, he would be proud owner of at least two rifles which would definitely improve his current situation. Well, to be honest, if they had but one Necromancer or Elemental a rifle wouldn’t do him any good. An Elemental had the annoying tendency to simply solidify the air and stop the bullets mid-air. Necromancers didn't even bother looking up from their cup of tea while conjuring a wall of shadows to swallow the projectiles. Added to the ever growing list of cons was that he had a maximum of ten minutes to find Saracen before the soldiers would be missed and the alarm raised.

“Damn, I hate decisions where the odds are against me, no matter what.”

Dexter raised to his elbows and tip-toes and started to carefully move even closer towards the fence until he could press his palms against it. Always keeping an eye on the men who still had their backs to him as they were moving towards the other side of the building, Dexter let purplish energy dance on his skin, hoping it would go undetected. Just like earlier that evening when he had molten a hole into the fence big enough for him and Saracen to squeeze through, the wire didn't stand a chance against Dexter's power.

Dexter was about to wriggle through the breach when the hairs at the back of his head stood up. Did he hear steps? Breathing? Dexter was on his feet in an instant, whirling around, knife drawn. His eyes darted from side to side trying to spot what had set him on edge. There, a movement! Dexter gripped his knife and took two fast steps towards the figure. A short and muffled shuffle later, Vex had the attacker pinned against a tree, a knife at their throat. “You should know better than to sneak up to a Dead Man, mate.”

“I’m on your side”, a female voice said hastily. She didn’t dare to move but continued. “I’ve been trying to get your attention.” Dexter was unable to make out her features in the dark but he noticed how young she sounded. And was that a faint Italian accent? A voice at the back of his head pointed out that the angle he had to hold the knife indicated that his opponent was at least a foot shorter than him. “I want to help.” 

Dexter huffed, incredulous. “What makes you think I can just trust you – a complete stranger – like that? I don’t know you or your motives.”

“Do you really think I would just creep up on the famous Dexter Vex if I weren’t serious?” The woman said with unconcealed mockery. “I work for the Italian Sanctuary and have finally tracked Mila down. As soon as I caught wind that two of the Dead Men were in town I came to warn you but you had already left.”

“’Left’ stretches it a bit. I’m still not trusting you and I’m running out of time.” Dexter grabbed the woman at the front of her jacket and pushed her out of the shadows to have a better look at her. His eyes widened.

“No, I'm not a kid. I was born in 1821. I just look like I’m twenty”, the woman – girl – immediately said with a resignation that let Dexter know how often she’d had to clarify that already.

Dexter narrowed his eyes, still pointing his knife at the girl. “Sending a teenager after me would be typical for Corvo. I really don’t have time for this right now.”

“What’s the hurry? You just arrived yesterday, why attack now? You have no idea how the patrols work, how it looks -”. The girl suddenly stopped. “Oh. She took Rue, didn’t she?”

Dexter nodded.

“Let me help”, the girl implored.

“What stops you from stabbing me in the back when it’s turned?” Dexter asked, sheathing the knife again. His body was still alert, ready to strike should the girl make a wrong move.

“Nothing except for the fact that I want to see Mila behind bars and her plans foiled.” Bitterness had crept into the girl’s voice and Dexter could see her jaw tightening. Even though he noticed that the girl used Corvo’s first name which indicated a personal history, he didn’t address it.

“Ok, what’s the plan?”

“You take out the guards while I check ahead.”

“I shouldn’t let you out of my sight”, Dexter said with distrust lacing his voice.

“The guards have almost completed their sweep. We can stand here and discuss this for the next ten minutes or we can act now. I don’t think you want to waste any more time, however”, the girl replied, already walking towards the fence.

Dexter gaped at her but eventually his worry for Saracen won over the distrust for the unknown girl.

The mages wriggled through the breach and immediately sought cover behind one of the trash containers. Balancing on the balls of his feet, Dexter pressed himself against the plastic surface, drawing his knife. He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating on the approaching footsteps of the guards.

“This is Golf Team. All clear”, a deep voice said.

_Golf Team? Couldn't they have skipped that letter?_ A grin appeared on the mage's face as he pictured the soldiers in crisp golf attire, handling clubs, swapping boring golf stories.

Dexter became serious soon enough when the approaching footsteps came ever closer. The smirk was replaced by a tense expression. The mage waited until the men were one step from rounding the container. Every muscle, every fibre of his body was strung to breaking point.

_Three … two … one …_

Dexter shot up and out of hiding. His palm, filled with crackling energy, found its way to one of the guards' hips, immediately frying his communications system. At the same time he plunged his blade into the other man's throat but taking care to leave the microphone intact. Pushing him to the ground, Dexter grabbed the barrel of the rifle the first guard was about to fire. He forced it aside, stepped in and brought his knee to the man's groin before finishing him off with a blast of energy. While the guard whose throat he had slit was beyond help, the other one was only unconscious and would be waking within the next half hour.

He quickly relieved the dead guard of his tactical radio. The mage pushed the earpiece into his ear, slid the bloody throat mic around his neck and provisionally strapped the receiver to his hip. Opening his jacket, Dexter let the wire trail down his chest and abdomen. He made sure everything was properly plugged in and that the wires were not in any way interfering with his movements.

Dexter wiped away the sweat that had begun to form on his brow. This mission had turned into a huge mess already and he had been inside the compound less than two minutes. 

Guilt rushed through him when he moved around the dead man's body. He had not even given him a chance to defend himself. Tearing his eyes away from the surprised look on the guard's face, Dexter gritted his teeth. He tried telling himself that these men were loyal to a religious lunatic who sought to bring pain and terror over the world. He tried telling himself that it had been unavoidable. He tried telling himself that death came with the job description of soldiers and mercenaries. Deep down, however, Dexter knew that the nameless man lying in a spreading puddle of his own blood would haunt his dreams. Killing was never justified, no matter the side one fought on.

Vex took one of the rifles in hand and pushed the magazine release button. That was the extend of his knowledge when it came to guns: how to change a magazine and switch the safety on and off. Was that even the right expression? Switching the safety on? A quick look at the banana-shaped magazine assured him that all thirty bullets were accounted for. Pulling the strap of the firearm over his head, he started jogging towards the flat building sitting in the warehouse's large shadow. When he looked back the girl had vanished. Dexter cursed under his breath. How could he have been so stupid? Couldn’t be helped now.

Gaining access to the restrooms by squeezing through one of the square windows had been easy. No alarm had started blaring when Dexter had smashed the glass and heaved himself inside. Things were looking promising-

The radio in Dexter's ear cracked. “Golf Team, this is Base. We heard a noise. Report.”

Dexter pressed the talk button on his sternum. “Base, this is Golf Team. Stand by, we will check it out.”

An agonising second passed and the mage's heart pounded hard against his ribs. Would they buy it? Although he had deepened his voice to match that of the guard, there was no guarantee the person on the other end would not catch his bluff.

“Roger that. Need back-up?”

“Negative.”

A few moments dragged by. “Base, come in. This is Golf Team.” Dexter had not bothered producing background noises such as the rustling of clothes or the sound of soft steps on tar to create the illusion of him searching for the source of the unknown sound. Throat microphones were designed to pick up the vibrations of the soldier's vocal cords, which rendered it deaf to any distracting sounds from outside.

“This is base.”

“A cat scaled the fence and was looking for food in the trash.”

“Any sign of target?”

“Not as yet. Next report in ten as usual.”

“Copy that. Keep your eyes open. Target will make a move soon.”

Dexter raised an eyebrow and could not help the malicious grin from tugging at his lips. “Aye, Sir. Golf Team out.” Maybe the girl was on his side after all.

Dexter sneaked out of the bathroom and down a short corridor, rifle in position. His cheek was pressed against the butt of the weapon and his index caressed the trigger guard almost gently. When a steel door came in sight to his right, he immediately flattened himself against the tiled wall and took his left hand off the rifle and grasped the handle. Slowly and carefully, the mage pulled the door open enough for him to peek out into the hall. To both his dismay and joy, all he was able to see were wooden boxes. Bringing the rifle to his face again, he opened the door further until he could stick first the barrel of his weapon out, followed by his head. Just a wall of boxes. It had to do.

“… no secrets from me”, the voice of a woman could be heard.

“I don't!”

_Saracen!_

Dexter's heart jumped at the sound of his husband's voice, how broken and desperate it sounded.

Vex moved silently until he had his back to the crates and was inching towards where he would be able to steal a better look. After every meter he covered he swivelled on his heels to avoid any nasty surprise fate had in stock for him. It tended to chuck everything it got at him.

“Tell me what you know and the pain will stop”, Corvo cooed with a voice as soft and soothing as a nurse's.

Dexter pulled the gun flush to his chest with his right hand and carefully turned his head until he could only just peek around the last wooden crate. He was painfully aware of his hair and half of his head being terribly exposed, yet it was a risk the mage was willing to take. For Saracen.

And there he was.

Dexter's insides went cold when he spotted Saracen shackled to a chair about twenty feet away with his back to him. The mage was trembling visibly and his bloody fingernails dug into his palms as he continuously shook his head.

“I was sent here … argh … to arrest you. The amulet. I … if I got a chance I was supposed to … argh … take it as well”, Saracen ground out, obviously in pain. Nobody was even touching him and yet he squirmed and writhed in the chair like Dexter had rarely seen him do.

Dexter watched in horror as Saracen tried to curl himself into a ball but was hindered in his movements by the handcuffs securing him to the chair. Instead, he brought his legs up and bent his upper body as much as he could, until his forehead almost touched his knees. An anguished cry ripped from Saracen's throat and he yanked at the cuffs. Vex' attention shifted to the irons and seething rage swelled up inside him when he realized that the blood on Saracen's hands and fingers was his own. He had struggled so frantically against the cuffs, he had chafed the skin to breaking point and beyond. 

Mila Corvo was towering over Saracen, arms crossed, watching the mage expectantly, very much like a teacher who had not received the full answer to a question. Right next to her, lounging in a second wooden chair, was a woman with a slightly bored expression on her face. There were no other people Vex could see from his angle behind the crates.

Stepping back, Dexter turned slightly and raised his weapon. He never got to the part where he stormed out of hiding. Slim spidery fingers suddenly slid over his mouth, yanking him back while an arm moved around his neck, pressing a cold blade to his throat. Due to the fact that his assailant was smaller than him, Vex was bent backwards to meet the attacker's height. In this position he was almost powerless and certainly had no leverage whatsoever.

“Hush, it’s me.” A barely audible whisper at his ear. Dexter recognised the voice of the girl and almost sighed in relief. The blade was removed.

Dexter, still cursing his own emotions for getting in the way and turning him completely blind to his surroundings, nodded carefully. When he felt more pressure put on his mouth and shoulder he moved with the mysterious girl until he was kneeling. Thoughts rushed through his mind. Where had she come from this quickly? Was she really on his side? If so he could not afford to make a fuss and have them both caught. But what if she was lying? Playing some perverted game before handing his beaten arse over to Corvo?

“I need you to listen carefully. Don't speak. Don't move”, the girl whispered against his ear. Dexter had to strain to make out the words. “The plan has changed. I wasn’t expecting for Mila to already be interrogating Rue. This will sound horrible to you and I'm so sorry but we have to wait until he looses consciousness.”

Dexter blinked as the realisation hit and drove all air out of his lungs as though it had been a physical blow. She wanted him to listen to Saracen, his beloved, scream in agony until the pain would became too strong to bear. _Over his dead body!_ Saracen was a trained, battle-hardened mage who made it a habit of spitting captors in the face, laughing off the pain. Saracen could last for hours. Suffering. No! Vex squirmed in her grasp and shook his head frantically.

“Hear me out. He has been poisoned. Mila alone can give him an antidote and she will only do it once he either tells her what he knows or he passes out. If you storm out there now all she has to do is to refuse to give him the antidote to have you surrender. Rue has to give in. It’s the only way. Trust me. I _know_.” Her voice had turned bitter again.

Dexter ceased his silent struggle, too shocked to answer. There was no telling which was worse. That he would be forced to hear Saracen scream and cry out desperately until his body could take no more and granted him the mercies of darkness. Or perhaps that he had been right about the personal history between Corvo and the girl behind him.

It had been supposed to be an easy mission: track down the thieves of the amulet, beat them up, get Saracen's magic back to a working level and ride off into the sunset. Instead, they had slithered straight into this mess. Religious fanatics, magical objects, ex-prisoners of said religious fanatics ... Dexter could already feel the oncoming headache.


	6. Tears and Sparrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything goes to hell. Chaos everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!  
> still a bit of torture

Saracen was screaming. His body contorted in pain and salty tears were mingling with the droplets of sweat streaming down his face.

Corvo knew it would not be long now until her captive talked. Or went mad. Such overwhelming pain was not meant for any human being to ever be exposed to and still she had been forced to use her strongest poisons on Saracen. He was tough and damn stubborn, she had to give him that. Of course there was always the possibility that he had already spoken the truth and simply waited for death to claim him. But Corvo didn't quite believe that. There was still something amiss, something in Saracen's story didn’t add up. She would know soon, though; the mage was teetering on the brink.

“Are you sure you have no further information about the amulet?” Corvo asked between screams.

“YES!”

“Even if I still don't trust your word on that let’s pretend you're telling the truth. What is the Sanctuary planning? The Elders will never send anyone to save you any time soon. The Dead Men are known to go off grid for a wile and once they start wondering what happened to you my goal will have been achieved. You even play an important role, Saracen. How do you feel about having been chosen to become my key? The key that will open the door for me to walk the paths of knowledge?”

The mage didn't answer. He had his eyes squeezed shut against the pain, his body tense and his mind refusing to ponder the cryptic message Corvo had delivered with shining eyes. Damn this, he had arrived a day ago and had already become the chosen one. Flattering as it may be, there was just no luck for him in this world. 

However, had Corvo known she was not the only one listening to Saracen scream and plead, perhaps she would not have felt so self-assured.

Dexter trembled. Each cry of pain, each sob hit him deeply, cutting wounds he knew would never heal. He was sitting idly by, while the love of his life was begging for the pain to finally stop. Each tear finding its way down his cheek fuelled his anger; it was like oil on fire, catastrophic once the oil began to spill.

“I TELL YOU! PLEASE! I … PLEASE! I TELL YOU EVERYTHING!!” Saracen screamed at the top of his lungs. His cries spiralled ever up and up, reaching new levels entirely. “STOP IT, PLEASE! I’LL TELL YOU!”

Dexter sobbed involuntarily immediately pressing a hand on his mouth. Saracen had broken. It had happened before that one of the Dead Men had succumbed to brutal and inhumane interrogation techniques. Hell, it happened to the best and strongest. They were human after all and everyone had a breaking point. People often assumed the suicide squad consisted of invincible heroes who would never back down, never give up and most importantly never break. That was ridiculous. The Dead Men sported more scars on both body and soul than any human should have endured. Maybe none of them showed it openly or they played it down with jokes but each of them had come out of the War a different person; shattered. They were not invincible. With the right leverage every member of the Dead Men turned into songbirds in the blink of an eye. For Saracen to throw in the towel this quickly, the pain he experienced must have been extraordinary.

The screaming stopped and was replaced by a wrangled moan and heavy panting.

“So?” Corvo demanded.

The prisoner didn't answer as he still tried to catch his breath, sucking in lungfuls of air, paying the protests of his broken ribs no heed. Compared to what he had just lived through, this pain was but an itch; nothing more than an annoyance at best.

“Saracen”, the woman threatened in a low growl.

“I will tell you”, Saracen sobbed. “Just … Let me … I need air. I will tell you.”

The Italian waited exactly ten seconds before pressing again. “What do you know?”

Saracen panted. “I was sent here with a special task”, he started in a quivering voice.

“What was it?”

The prisoner suddenly snickered and when he spoke again, his voice, while still sounding weak had lost every teary quality. “I … uh … darn, I forgot.”

Yedra leaped up from her chair and covered the distance between them in two big steps. “You fucking asshole! I will knock that stupid grin right off your face!” Before anyone could reason with her, the Elemental had drawn her arm back and landed a terrific right hook. She had every intention of knocking Saracen’s lights out.

Saracen's head was swimming and a peculiar ringing noise maltreated his ears. There were funny colours dancing before his eyes. Out of the corner of his dimming eyes he could see the scientists walking briskly towards the back of the warehouse, probably heading towards the in-plant office. He tried to process this information but his brain was busy admiring the colourful swirls dancing before his inner eye. Admittedly, they were pretty. Then everything went black.

In his hideout, Dexter had gone wide-eyed. _That clever son of a bitch_ , he thought. Faking a breakdown to make Corvo give him the antidote was something everyone could and most likely would have considered a smashing plan. But to think part two of the grand scheme would consist of provoking his captors into knocking him unconscious themselves had 'Dead Man' stamped all over it. Dexter could perfectly picture the shit-eating grin Saracen loved to wear when in a tight spot and a smile loosened up his lips he had pressed to a thin line.

The girl brought her mouth to Dexter's ear again. “This is our chance. I'll distract them, buy you some time to get to Rue. Here, take this key. It will fit the cuffs.” She pulled a small key from her pocket and pressed it into Dexter’s palm. Questions swirled in his mind he forced himself to swallow and instead concentrate on the task at hand. Vex wiped his eyes using the sleeve of his shirt and got to his feet, rifle pressing against his cheek. Breathing steadily, the mage waited patiently for his new partner in crime to make an appearance. If she made an appearance at all and didn't sell him out this very minute. 

_Calm down, Dexter. Think of the headache. Think of the headache._

“It seems Mr. Rue is even more cunning than anticipated”, Corvo said dryly. “You played right into his hands, Yedra. Wake him up, let us begin another round.”

“Sorry for snapping, boss” the Elemental said, sounding bashful. “It's just something about his demeanour that makes me want to punch him in the face all the time.” Yedra waved her hands in the air, manipulating the humidity in order to splash water into Saracen's face repeatedly.

Groaning, Saracen cracked an eye open and lifted his head with some effort. Showing off a confident smile that bordered on impertinence, the mage straightened and jutted his chin forward defiantly.

Corvo huffed unimpressed and approached Saracen who eyed her warily. It was no secret what would happen next and Saracen steeled himself against the inevitable. When Corvo reached down to draw yet another combination of runes onto his skin, she was interrupted by someone clearing their throat loudly.

“Please don't”, a voice said. The words had come neither as a plea nor as an order but Corvo froze all the same. Her eyes darted to the left where a short woman had stepped out from behind the wall of crates that had been stack-piled beneath the office.

“Look who we've got here. I didn't think you would ever dare to show yourself again, Lagrima.” Corvo glanced about the staging area to determine whether the woman had come alone. Nobody jumped them. Although she should not have posed a real threat, it was clear to everyone that Corvo's body had tensed up and her mind was on high alert.

Yedra and Saracen gaped at the stranger in surprise and bewilderment respectively. Where had she popped up from? Why had nobody seen her slip in? The guards hadn’t raised any alarm. Besides, she had quite the nerve to simply walk up to them, initiating a conversation.

On closer inspection it became clear they had a lone teenager in front of them, a girl of not more than twenty years. Saracen knew never to underestimate mages and especially those who looked too young to already know how to handle themselves in battle. This girl however, despite her young age, did have a dangerous air about her which was underlined by her imposing looks. Clad in a black leather jacket sporting silver spikes on the shoulders and buckles down the arms. The girl had taken a broad stance, a pistol aimed at Corvo. Long wavy snow-white hair fell down her right shoulder, part of it tied back in a messy plait, keeping her face clear of it while the left side of her head was half-shaven. Falling in with the asymmetry, one leg of her trousers was a tartan in grey and black while the other one stuck to black alone. There were silver buckles and straps all over her clothing, even on the worn-out military ankle boots.

Saracen was not surprised in the least to see sheaths with throwing knives strapped to both her thighs.

“Release him. I will take him with me”, Lagrima said and again the demand was delivered with an unnerving calmness. The words simply tumbled out of her mouth as though she had not a care in the world. Narrowing his eyes, the mage inhaled deeply. Suddenly everyone was interested in him which was never a good omen. Experience had beaten that into him over the years. “I'm good, thanks”, he cut in, smiling. “No need to get physical over me.”

Both women ignored him. Awesome. Not only was he the desired prize to be taken home by the winner of this inevitable showdown, it was also clear that whoever got to take him with her would piss the other one off.

“Why don’t we switch to a more comfortable language?” Corvo asked in Italian and while Saracen didn't understand a word, he picked up on the friendly tone appealing to the girl, reasoning with her.

Lagrima laughed humourlessly but replied in Italian. “Are you afraid you might say something nice to me and ruin your image as a tough badass? Yedra still understands most of what we say, right? Spanish is not that different from Italian.” Lagrima shot the Elemental a smile and switched back to English. “How’s the blood thirst?”

“Put down the gun and I’ll show you, old friend.”

Lagrima motioned to Saracen who had been following the conversation with narrowed eyes. “Ok, here’s what we’re going to do. I actually wanted to arrest you tonight but seeing that you're busy torturing mortals-”

“I'm a mage, thank you very much!”

“My bad”, Lagrima said with an apologetic glance in his direction before focusing on Corvo again. “As I was saying, I think I might have overestimated myself in challenging you alone. I thought I could fight you head-on and take you back to the Sanctuary. I'm willing to let you go this time if you hand him over.”

Mila took a step towards Lagrima who tightened her grip on the pistol. With a slight inclination of her head she made it clear she would not hesitate to pull the trigger. “You have always hopelessly underestimated dangerous situations, my dear. Always in pursuit of adventures. It’s a shame that you cannot accompany me on my journey.”

“You made it quite clear that you don’t want me at your side”, Lagrima scoffed. A steep crease had formed between her eyes. “And don’t try feeding me that bullshit of sacrifices again, Mila. You used me for your personal goals and pushed me aside when I wouldn’t fucking die for your cause.”

“I never would have asked you to die for me. You just don’t see the magnificence of my plan. If you let me explain-”

“O you have done enough explaining.” Lagrima took a deep breath and her expression softened. “This is not you, Mila. Vengeous has poisened your mind with his talk of the Faceless Ones. Years and years he has spun his fantasies about knowledge beyond our world and you have let him wrap you up in it. There are no more universal secrets left for you to discover.” 

Mila shook her head and offered Lagrima a sad smile. “You're blind, my dear. A shame. I had hoped you might see clearly by now and join me. You and I would have been great together.”

“… Yeah, we would’ve.” Lagrima sighed and gripped the pistol tighter. “I fear this concludes our conversation. Now, release him and we’ll be out of your hair.”

Corvo nodded, obviously considering this and turned towards her prisoner who shook his head frantically.

“No, don't let her touch me!” Saracen had no clue where this girl had come from or what she wanted from him. All he was entirely positive about, was that he certainly didn't want to be touched by Corvo again. Ever. With everything else he could live, the throbbing pain in his still bleeding leg, the stinging lashing through his ribcage whenever he breathed either in or out. No physical pain could compare to the ordeal Corvo had put him through during the last hour.

“Mila, don’t move. Yedra, Release him”, Lagrima pointed her index finger at the Elemental who looked to Corvo for instructions. The Italian nodded and at the same time as Yedra bent to remove Saracen's cuffs, all hell broke loose.

Shipping dock number six was nearly obliterated by the shadow smacking into the thin metal paddle from outside. Through the hole stepped Ciardha, closely followed by a small regiment of armed soldiers, rifles in position. With one quick glance the black-eyed Necromancer took in the scene unfolding before her.

“There she is! Take her out!” she bellowed and the soldiers obeyed.

“I want her alive!” Corvo shouted over the ruckus, picking herself up from the floor where she had thrown herself when Ciardha had made her entrance. “I need her alive!”

Lagrima didn’t waste any time. She had expected something like this to happen and had been waiting for reinforcements. That’s why Corvo had agreed to release Rue. Lagrima started sprinting towards the iron racks in a zig-zag pattern to avoid any magical or non-magical attack. When she was one meter from the metal structure she leaped and landed on the lowest shelf, nimbly climbing towards the ceiling and the row of windows.

“Don't follow-” Corvo tried to warn the soldiers but it was too late. Half of the unit had already started climbing after the fleeing girl who had reached the top shelf which apart from a thick layer of dust was empty and was now running across it. Lagrima dropped to the metal mid-run like a baseball player, slithering towards the end of the shelf. As soon as her outstretched left hand made contact with the iron, bluish-white jagged tendrils of electricity sprang from her palm and fingertips. 

Corvo watched five men flying off the iron shelving and sprawling on the ground. None of them got to their feet again and yet she believed them to be only unconscious. Lagrima had a soft heart. That had always been her weakness. It had been naïve to assume or even hope Lagrima would join her ranks; she was a notorious good person. Corvo looked at Saracen who was still guarded by Yedra. “Lock him in the cellar. Guard him.” Leaving Yedra to it, the Italian stalked after the girl who was currently trying to avoid being completely surrounded by guards while warding off Ciardha's shadows.

“Yes, boss.” Yedra produced a small key and rounded Saracen's chair. Crouching down, the Elemental almost gently took one of his wrists, earning a hiss from the prisoner as the metal painfully rubbed over his chafed skin.

A soft movement in the air, almost too soft to be picked up tickled Yedra's cheek and she spun to her feet, drawing a knife and holding it to Saracen's throat.

“Step away from him!” Dexter had his rifle trained on the Elemental's chest, a steep crease furrowing his brow. He was unable to see Saracen's face but the way he held himself showed Vex that this woman was not to be underestimated.

“If I do you’ll shoot me”, Yedra pointed out. “While I have no clue as to who you are, that I know for sure.”

Dexter almost growled. “I don't give a fuck about you. All I care about is him. I won’t shoot as long as you don’t attack me. Let him go.”

“Then you must be Dexter Vex. The white knight in the shining armour astride a mighty horse. I'm afraid I have orders to make sure Mr. Rue stays with us a little longer.”

“And that I cannot allow to happen. Step away from him!”

“This is quite the tricky situation”, Yedra smiled. “You shoot me, my hand will slip and he dies. You don't shoot me, I might still kill him. You know, for fun.”

“I don’t think so. You have orders.”

Yedra deliberately turned the knife a few millimeters, the blade digging into Saracen’s skin until it drew blood. Saracen hissed. “Are you sure, pretty boy?”

For a moment nobody moved or said a word. All they could hear was the fighting noises carried over to them.

“Dexter, she-”

“Hush, darling. Don't spoil the fun”, Yedra drawled condescendingly, twisting the knife again, forcing the mage to crane his head even further to the side.

Dexter could feel perspire forming on his brow, white hot anger surging through him when he saw the malicious grin on the woman's face. He had no clue what to do next. Lower his gun? Shoot her?  
The decision was ripped from his responsibility when Saracen suddenly moved, toppling the chair backwards and to the side, slipping out of Yedra's reach. Dexter didn't wait for Saracen to hit the concrete. When he pulled the trigger the rifle began spitting bullets at the Elemental who had already drawn up a shield in front of her. The rounds slowed to a stop upon hitting the solidified air.   
Saracen cried out when his shoulder was jostled by the impact and the shackles cut into his lacerations. Projectiles rained down on him when Yedra dropped her air shield and flames flared up in both her palms.

Vex ducked and rolled, avoiding the fireballs as best as he could while still shooting at the Elemental. The sound of gunfire was loud in his ears and he dove behind one of the couches which almost instantly took to burning. None of the bullets had hit home but Yedra had not moved an inch.

_Rifle is fucking useless. Gonna do this old-school_ , Dexter thought angrily and tossed the weapon aside. It skidded across the floor, dropping into the car pit of the nearest shipping dock. Too late to change his mind. Drawing in a deep breath, Vex leaped up and over the sofa, crackling energy coiling up to his elbows. Before he could think this over again, he had started a mad dash across the open ground towards Yedra. He drew his right arm back and released a handful of purplish energy at her. In response, she pushed against the air hard. Vex dropped and felt the rush of air pass over him. In one fluid motion he drew his knife and got to his feet again, slashing upwards as he did so. His other palm flared with energy and he aimed for her head. The Elemental sprang back with a concentrated expression and waved her hands.

Vex barely avoided the continuous stream of fire erupting from her left palm, blindly stumbling right into a wall of air she had simultaneously conjured with her right. He snarled but could not help being impressed. She was able to control two elements at once and still hold true to her aim?

Yedra brought her knee up and drove it into Dexter's abdomen, making him double over and gasp from the pain. She grabbed the front of his jacket and a handful of his hair, pulling him in an upright position, bringing their faces close. “You won't save him like this”, she whispered and to Dexter's bewilderment it was neither sneered nor meant to tease. The energy in his palms diminished when he met her gaze for a heartbeat and was genuinely confused by the absence of hatred in her dark eyes. Was … was she helping them? Was there not anyone with clear loyalties in this mess? And there it was; the headache that had threatened to wreak havoc in his head this entire time. Dexter hated counterspies. You never knew when they stabbed you in the fucking back. The iron grip on his hair loosened ever so slightly and Dexter smacked his forehead into her face without hesitation.  
Yedra stumbled back, clutching at her broken nose and snapping her fingers but Dexter was on her before she could feed the flame. He kicked her hand to the side and delivered a vicious punch to her left temple. Yedra crumpled to the floor and knew nothing more.

“Saracen!” Dexter spun on his heels to finally release his husband from his predicament and stopped short. The cuffs were lying next to the still toppled wooden chair but Saracen had vanished. All that remained were bloody handprints where he had pushed himself up and a lager stain of blood. Dexter didn't want to begin think about the injury that caused Saracen to loose this much blood. And now he had gone off on his own to do who knew what again. “Damn you”, Vex hissed. In this moment the radio cracked to life.

“This is Base. Golf Team, do you copy?”

Dexter cursed under his breath but pressed the talk-button on his chest all the same. Problems were beginning to pile. “This is Golf Team. Base, we heard noises. Has the target appeared?”

“A woman with white hair has managed to breach security. She is inside. We have engaged her.”

“Need back-up?”

“Negative. Keep positions and don't let anyone else slip through. This might be a distraction.”  
Dexter smirked. _Oh, really?_ “Roger that.”

“Base is still manned with a dozen men just in case. The patrols remain. Report in ten.”

“Aye, Sir. Golf Team out.” Another catastrophe averted. High time to track down his fugitive husband.


	7. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Escaping, more chaos and mending. Dexter makes a call.

As soon as Saracen had overcome the pain that had exploded in his ribcage upon impact, he had used the key Yedra had pushed into his hand and freed himself from the shackles. At this point he was too weary and confused by the overall situation to question her motives and whether she would gain anything by setting him free. Important to him in this very moment was the amulet. If he guessed correctly, the scientists had been experimenting on the amulet. Although he had been on the brink of unconsciousness he remembered seeing them walk towards the office. So if his deduction was on point, the amulet would be sitting alone in the office.

Shakily, Saracen clambered to his feet, ignoring the burning in his left leg. A last glance towards Dexter let him know that he had everything under control – more or less. The mage hastened towards the stairs leading up onto the truss catwalk as fast as his injuries allowed. Vanquishing the steps, however, took its toll on his battered body and when he pushed open the door he was panting heavily. His bleeding limb was throbbing and his ribs screamed whenever he sucked in lungfuls of air. To his alarm the colourful swirls were back. He felt dizzy and sweat was pouring down his face. Fainting was something he really didn't need right now.

Saracen never bothered with switching on any lights and made a bee-line for the desk which was drowning in pieces of papers, folders and books. And there, on the fancy chair meant for meaningful and dramatic swivelling, sat a light brown leather pouch on top of a thin paper folder. Saracen picked it up and peeped inside. Bingo. Stuffing the satchel in his jeans pocket, he gave the imposing desk a quick look-over but there were too many folders for him to pick the one containing the most valid information. He randomly picked the one the amulet had been lying on and a dark green paper folder, stuffed it into the waistband of his jeans and headed for the door.

_Damn_ , Saracen thought when he stumbled out onto the catwalk and immediately had to grasp the metal railing. He must have lost more blood than he thought he had. His head was swimming and the funny swirls danced faster than before, causing nausea.

At the other end of the warehouse suddenly a bluish-white cobweb appeared out of seemingly nowhere. The threads were made of electricity, though and everyone caught up in it, received a minor electric shock. Impressed, Saracen watched the girl, Lagrima, pull the threads back to her, facing down her two last opponents. 

Ciardha and Corvo herself. The Necromancer had wrapped herself in a black cocoon of shadows which had protected her from the icy-blue tendrils while Corvo had conjured inky figures floating in the air before her, absorbing the electricity. Now the three women were dishing out attacks, one meaner than the other and Saracen was glad he was not part of it. Staggering down the stairs without falling proved to be a challenge and on the last step his foot caught on some protruding piece of metal. “Shit”, was all Saracen managed to say before he flailed and lost his balance, falling into the arms of Dexter Vex who suddenly appeared in front of him.

“Easy, buddy, I gotcha.”

“I feel sick”, Saracen mumbled and collapsed against Dexter.

“Love you too. Can you walk?”

Saracen breathed heavily, leaning on his husband. “Yes.” It didn't sound too reassuring and Dexter decided to stick close to him. Saracen’s skin felt clammy and his breathing came in short puffs.

“What in hell did she do to you? She wouldn’t even touch you.”

“Nothing you ever want to experience yourself. Let's get out of here.”

Dexter nodded and started moving towards the obliterated shipping gate six. Saracen was in no condition to wriggle through a window. They would have to take the long way around.

To their right, Ciardha, Corvo and their new ally were still engulfed in an epic battle of shadow-waves and inky figures clashing with electric threads tied to cobwebs. Punches and kicks were delivered with ferocious determination and no trick was too cheap.

Saracen stopped. “She is really good. ”

“How did you figure out we had partnered up, anyway?”

“I know things.”

“So you magically knowing things also works when you don’t have any powers?”, Dexter sighed. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“This, as in the most perfect husband you could ever wish for?” Saracen grinned but his voice was beginning to fade once more.

“… Right.”

“Is she really on our side? I mean, it looks pretty obvious to me and she and Corvo had a nasty conversation, throwing insults at one another but one can never be too sure. Should we save her?”

“Honestly? I have no clue where anyone's loyalties lie these days. Not that it would matter because I won’t allow you to engage in a fight in your state. You aren’t strong enough to protect a mouse from a kitten.”

“Rude.”

Dexter ignored Saracen’s protest and kept dragging him towards the other side of the warehouse. “That woman knows awfully much about Corvo and did help me save you. I suspect they are old enemies.”

“Old enemies? Have you even seen her? She is like twenty.”

“I think she is older than she seems. Anyway, when looking at the big picture, she could be part of Corvo's grand scheme.”

“Crusade. Let's keep moving. Lagrima can handle it.”

Dexter blinked and allowed Saracen to lean on him again. “What?”

“Corvo called it her crusade and apparently I play a major role in it.”

“You?”

“I'm magnificent, don't be so incredulous”, Saracen said, offended. “If it weren't for a cause crazier than anything we have ever faced, I would feel flattered. Well, I do, sort of.”

“You're hopelessly vain, darling”, Dexter huffed and helped Saracen climb down into the car pit. Saracen's resolution to clear the distance on his own had already evaporated into thin air and he had wrapped his arm around Dexter's shoulders for support.

Suddenly, Lagrima leaped into the pit, almost slipping on the abandoned rifle lying there. She blinked, then picked it up, fitted the butt against her shoulder and pulled the trigger. Her frame trembled with the recoil. “OUT! Go, go, go!” Lagrima ushered them on while attempting to keep the Necromancer and Corvo at bay. The Italian had a shimmering inky guardian at her side again who functioned as shield while she advanced. The figure never trembled, never shook from the impacts, in fact, it looked like the projectiles were hitting water. It was Ciardha, however, who won the competition for most shocking performance. One bullet after the other found its mark but the Necromancer never even stopped walking. The wounds immediately sealed themselves with black matter.

“I was wrong”, Saracen winced. “Her object. It wasn't the eyes … it is her entire body. She IS the darkness. That's why me stabbing her had no effect.”

“Guess that is our cue. We are so leaving.” Dexter wrapped his arm around Saracen's waist and almost hoisted him off his feet before dragging him outside, trusting Lagrima to cover their escape. Madness. He ignored the pained hiss Saracen offered and continued heading to the back of the warehouse. The sparse shadows barely gave them any cover.

“Don't you dare give up on me now, Saracen”, Vex implored his stumbling husband. It was clear that he would not be able to go on for much longer. The limp was more than prominent now and the way Saracen held his palm pressed against his ribcage suggested he had broken something. His breathing had become fast and shallow while more laboured at the same time.

“I'll try, o Dexter mine.”

“We ain't got no time for poetry, Saracen”, Dexter said.

Dexter and Saracen had reached the corner of the building and halted. Now they were facing twenty meters of unprotected open ground before reaching the fence and, ultimately the safety beyond.

“What are you guys waiting for?” Lagrima had reached them but not before spanning an electric cobweb into the hole in the wall to keep their pursuers from gaining on them too quickly. “My barrier won't hold them off for long and the further away I get the less efficient my threads become.”

“Uh … I have a car at the other side of that wire fence.”

“Excellent. How do we cross this brightly lit area?”

“Working on that.”

“Work faster then”, Lagrima huffed with her back to them, watching out for attackers. She had abandoned the rifle after it had run empty. Dexter had not been exactly economical with his use of bullets.

“Help me with Saracen.”

Lagrima ducked under Saracen's arm and draped it across her shoulders. “You're in good shape, Mister. Considering she tortured you for quite a while.”

“Glad to know you enjoyed the show”, Saracen muttered. “What were you doing there, anyway? Who _are_ you anyway?”

“Lagrima Passero, Detective with the Italian Sanctuary in Milan. And if you're going to point out that I'm too young, well, no. I was born in 1821.”

Saracen nodded as though that had been obvious from the start. “Dexter, how is the escape plan coming along?”

“Shush, you two. I'm trying to think here. Ok, I got it.” Dexter cleared his throat. “Base, come in”, he said in a deeper voice, earning a raised eyebrow from both Saracen and Lagrima. He held up a hand and shook his head when Lagrima wanted to say something. “Base, come in”, he repeated sternly.

“This is Base.”

“We spotted the intruder, a girl, white hair. Suspect is armed and dangerous. Heading southwest now. Permission to engage.”

Lagrima took a step away from them, her expression changing to fear. Electricity started dancing on her fingertips. “No-”

Saracen noticed the smell of ozone suddenly hanging in the air. “A diversion”, he said quickly. “We’re not handing you over to cover our escape!”

“I knew that.” Lagrima swallowed and the tendrils of electricity disappeared. Saracen frowned but a wave of pain washed over him and he had no time to ponder Lagrima’s odd reaction to their ruse.

“Don't spook her, Golf. We are on our way to intercept her path. Follow but don't engage. Keep us posted.”

“Yes, Sir. Golf Team out.”

Saracen snickered weakly. “Golf Team?”

“It's like they beg to be made fun of. Let's keep moving!” Dexter set a pace that bordered on jogging, although he knew it was in all likelihood too fast for Saracen. They had to make it to the fence and back to the hotel. Saracen would be safer there, he would have his medical supplies and they could draw up a shield as primary protection.

_Please, let us make it_ , Dexter prayed silently.

Saracen could barely stand on his own but he never complained as he tried not to be the reason for their slow progress. The funny blurs were back and a faint buzzing noise rang in his ears. His breathing was shallow and unsteady. Saracen knew, unconsciousness was lurking just around the corner. Still, he fought on. There was no way he could give up now. Not now.

Dexter and Lagrima were presently helping Saracen clear the big hole in the fence the Dexter had molten into it without hesitation, when the radio in his ear cracked again.

“Golf Team, this is Base. Where are you?”

Vex decided not to answer. Saracen was relying more and more on Lagrima and himself for physical support. They had almost reached the car. Come on!

“Golf Team, come in!”

Dexter rolled his eyes. “This is Golf Team.”

“Do you have vision on target? What is your position?”

“He sounds profoundly confused”, Dexter informed the others with a smirk before pressing the speak button on his chest again. “I do have vision on target. She is here with me.”

“Excellent.”

“Meh, depends, man.”

“I beg your pardon, Golf?!”

“I'm certainly happy to have her with me but you won't be so thrilled about that.”

“What do you mean by that? Explain yourself, Golf!”

“Oh, I'm sorry. Didn't I mention? This is Dexter Vex speaking. We are currently making our grand escape and doing remarkably well. Greet your boss from me.” He could imagine the face of the soldier at the other end of the radio. Going from irate tomato-red to how-do-I-tell-my-boss-I-royally-fucked-up-pale in 1.2 seconds. As expected, there came no reply.

Finally, the Mustang came into sight and Dexter allowed a spark of hope to kindle. Since he had left it unlocked and stashed the key in the glove compartment, he didn't have to bother searching for it. He opened the back door and helped Saracen into the car. Groaning, the mage collapsed into it. With a relieved sigh Dexter slid into the driver's seat next to Lagrima who was already strapped in.  
Roaring, the car came to life and soon sped down the dusty road towards town.

Saracen drifted in and out of consciousness. The drive back to the hotel was lost in a haze of houses and streets rushing by and lights dancing on the window of the car he was leaning against. He used Dexter's leather jacket he had found next to him as a cushion. The smell of tattered leather mixed with the soft fragrance of Dexter's aftershave was soothing and comforting and he let his mind relax. Dex would take care of him; there was no need for him to worry. No need …

**ooOoOoo**

“I got your text, Dexter. What’s up? I don’t have much time.” 

In the background Dexter could hear people shouting and got a general feel of chaos. “Ghastly, is everything all right? Sounds like the apocalypse over there.”

Ghastly sighed. “Just a zombie outbreak. Some virus. I don’t even want to know where Skul and Val always find these people. It’s like they have a nose for rogue mages with a wish for world domination.” When Dexter didn’t offer as much as a chuckle, Ghastly got serious again. “What’s wrong?”

“We found the band of thieves who have been robbing repositories over the last few months. Only, it turns out Mila Corvo is behind the thefts and she has something big planned. She … I … it’s like this -” Dexter faltered and took a deep breath. His usual confident and charming air was gone and Ghastly knew something was up. Dexter wouldn’t call him unless he didn’t know what to do. It didn’t happen often that he would ask for help but when he did it was almost always about Saracen.

“Mila Corvo? That’s troubling and quite disturbing news. Can you keep an eye on her?”

Dexter swallowed. “Sure.”

“Dexter, what’s wrong?”

“She tortured him and I had to listen”, Dexter whispered. “She had him snatched right under my nose and I was too slow to save him from the interrogation.”

Ghastly was silent for a moment. He didn’t have to ask who Dexter was talking about. “Shit, I’m sorry, Dexter. I really am. Is Saracen all right?”

“Yeah, we got him out. He barely survived but he should be back to normal in the morning.”

“We?”

Dexter bit his lip. “That’s part of why I’m calling. I need you to check if there is a certain Lagrima Passero listed as a detective with the Italian Sanctuary. She helped us out but there is more people switching sides whenever they fucking please than I would like there to be. So I’m worried she might be lying to us.”

“I’ll look into it. How are you feeling? Anything I can do for you? My means are limited at the moment, however. I would come myself but I’m afraid they would run the country into the ground in my absence. I’ll see to it that I can shift some personnel around and get someone over to you as back-up. Are you safe for now?”

“Yes, for now. Corvo will come after us, though. We have shields around the building and it should be able to hold her off long enough.”

“Can you hold out a little longer?”

Dexter considered telling Ghastly how lost and helpless he felt at the moment. Saracen’s screams were still ringing in his ears and the sight of his feverish state made him clench his teeth. He was scared he might lose Saracen. It had been a close call this evening and although he knew that Saracen was safe and would be – physically – the same as always in the morning Dexter couldn’t help but feel the terror in his bones. Saracen was a grown man but he was also his husband and Dexter wanted to keep him safe. “Back-up would be nice. And a teleporter”, he eventually said.

Ghastly sighed, knowing exactly what Dexter didn’t say with words but with his silence. “I’ll do my best but it’s chaos down here and we need everyone there is. How bad is the situation? Will the world end?”

Dexter closed his eyes and considered lying. He heard more people calling for Ghastly in the background. It sounded urgent. “Probably not but I’ll keep you posted on the apocalypse-front. Thanks for listening.”

“Any time. Lay low in the meantime until I figure this shitstorm out.”

“Will do.” Dexter hung up.

Ghastly looked down at the phone and wondered if he had made the right decision. He cursed under his breath. Why had he accepted this damn job? As Grandmage he couldn’t prioritise his friends over the safety of the world any more. Ghastly closed his eyes for a moment before coming to a decision. _Damn it_ , he thought.


	8. Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heated arguing over theories and ideas. Mythology, yay!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was super fun to research all of these myths and I'll make sure to include more of that in the next chapters.

When Saracen woke, he was snuggled into a cosy warm bed with the sun tickling his nose. With a satisfied smile he opened his still sleepy eyes and looked about the room. Saracen frowned when it was all too unfamiliar. The small bed he was lying in stood in the far corner of the room which was furnished with a narrow wardrobe, a desk bathing in sunlight directly beneath the big window and an armchair with his bag in it. All in all, it looked very lived-in. There were posters with people he didn't recognise, as well as pencil drawings of people he didn't recognise either. Quotes, written in beautiful calligraphy covered part of the wall and door. Very artsy.

“Honestly, Dex, if this is one of your weird friends' house … again”, Saracen mumbled and carefully swung his legs out of bed. Only now did he realise that his entire torso and left leg were heavily bandaged. Probably to keep the healing mud from splashing about and ruining the nice sheets. Saracen could feel the slimy substance on his skin. “Ew.”

The mage stood and when his head was not swimming nor his body threatened to faint if he didn't lie down at once he headed towards the second door, assuming it was a bathroom. On his way there he stopped to search his bag for the rest of yellowish bruise-removing rock he liked to bring on his adventures. The healing mud would have fixed his ribs but the bruises were more than likely still visible.

Saracen knew he didn't have to worry about his safety. Dexter never would have left him on his own while he was still injured if he were not save. That was why he decided to take a bath.

The water was hot and the steam made it hard for Saracen to breathe but that was what he loved so much about sitting in the hot tub, letting his thoughts wander. Sometimes he would take a bath with Dexter, the both of them enjoying a good book.

The crumbs of porous rock Saracen had discovered deep down in his bag, had dissolved perfectly and he could see the garish bruises on his chest vanish. Purple and dark blue turned to green and yellow before fading completely.

Saracen sighed and leaned back against the cold surface of the tub. “I wonder what Dex is up to … He has not visited.”

Just in that moment he heard the door to the room open and a second later, Dexter Vex poked his head into the bathroom. “There you are! Good to see you up and well.” A broad smile tugged at the corners of Dexter's mouth and he moved closer. The mage knelt down next to the bathtub and leaned over the rim to give Saracen a soft kiss. “You're a reckless one, you know that?”, he said and ran his fingertips over Saracen's cheek.

“It wasn't my fault”, Saracen defended himself, reaching up to Dexter's neck and holding on as he pulled him closer for another kiss. “I knew you would find me”, he whispered. Dexter only smiled lovingly at him.

“You hungry? There is still breakfast.”

“Always! Man, I'm starving!”

Dexter got to his feet again. “Then hurry up and get dressed.”

“Wanna bring me my clothes?”

A sly smile danced over Dexter's lips. “Go and get them yourself.”

“You just want to see me naked.”

Dramatically, Vex pressed a palm against his chest. “Too true. These funny bubbles cover up everything worth looking at.” He exited the bathroom and from the noises that followed, he had slouched into the armchair.

“You do see my face, though”, Saracen pointed out, already knowing the answer he would be getting.

“Like I said.”

Saracen left the bathroom wearing nothing more than a towel wrapped around his hips and a mock scowl. “I never should have married you”, he pouted and bent to press another gentle kiss to Dexter's lips. When he moved away, there was a concerned expression on Vex's face. “What?”

“Are you okay?”

Saracen sighed. “Yes. It wasn't the first time I got tortured for information and considering our luck, it won't have been the last time.”

“I was worried.”

“I know”, Saracen mumbled and let Dexter pull him into a hug. They remained in each other's arms for a few moments.

Saracen grabbed his bag and moved towards the bed where he started pulling shirt upon shirt and trousers upon trousers out of his bag. Glancing at Dexter in his combat suit he stuffed his ordinary clothes back. If Dex was still wearing his protective clothing, Saracen would too. He suspected that they had stirred up something big and their problems would be piling on rapidly.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in”, Saracen said, absent-mindedly while he sought to bring his clothes in order.

“Saracen, no-”, Dexter started and jumped out of the armchair but it was too late.

Noah opened the door, balancing a tablet on one hand. “Mr. Rue, I believe, you-” The receptionist stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at Saracen's unbandaged chest which was devoid of any bruising; just smooth skin. No deep gashes were visible on his leg, not even a scar had remained of the terrors Noah had witnessed the night before. He could still see the image of an unconscious Saracen being dragged into the hotel lobby, bleeding and hurt. The memory of how he had helped Dexter clean his wounds and bandage Saracen's injuries with this odd slime, Vex had insisted on, seemed like mockery in the morning sun. The fine red line of his split lip was the only indication of Saracen having been involved in violent affairs at all. 

The tablet wobbled in the trembling grasp of Noah and Dexter quickly took it from him and set it on the bedside table before he dropped it.

“How … ?” Noah started but his voice gave out and he cleared his throat before his second try. “How are you healed so quickly?”

**ooOoOoo**

“Magic?”, Noah echoed incredulously.

After the ginger had walked in on Saracen having been transformed back into his old self, the two mages had seen no other possibility than to let him in on their big secret. They both liked the squirrelly receptionist and since neither of them specialised in memory-alteration, they decided on telling Noah. It would make matters much less complicated. Besides, they couldn’t lock him into the cellar. It just wouldn’t be fair.

Saracen was sitting cross-legged on the bed, happily munching away at croissants and muesli and nodding enthusiastically.

“Yep, magic. It really exists.”

Noah leaned forward in the armchair Dexter had helped him into when the receptionist had found himself unable to either move or tear his gaze from Saracen. His eyes shone brightly and a smile that Saracen could not help but describe as hopeful, had stolen on his lips. “Like in books?”

“Kind of. You see, there are people who can manipulate the four elements. We call them Elementals and-”

“Are you an Elemental?” Noah asked eagerly. He bit his lip and Dexter had to hide his amused grin at the sight of this brimming ray of sunshine. Rather than running in terror, the ginger was bursting to learn more about the secret world he had just discovered. It seemed like Noah had kept a lot of his child-like curiosity. The mind still roamed the uncharted lands between pages of books while he was stuck in this reality. If he could, Noah would probably pack his things and vanish between the covers of the next best book he could find. That, Vex was sure of.

Saracen laughed. “No, unfortunately, I'm not. And neither is Dexter. We belong to the second category of sorcerers. The Adepts. Each of us have learned a special trait of magic that we use.”

“What is your magic, Mr. Rue?”

Dexter smirked. “Yes, Saracen, what is your stunning power? Married for so long and you still refuse to tell me.”

“I know things.”

Noah seemed confused and a bit disappointed. “Is that it? I mean, can you cheat at card games or know when someone is going to die?”

“I just know things”, Saracen repeated with a sly smile. “Dexter's power is more spectacular, though. Ask him.”

Expectantly, Noah stared at Vex with big eyes like a kid a a magician's show about to see a stunning trick.

Dexter shook his head and held up his palm. “I’m an Energythrower. Don't get too excited.” Purple energy flared up in his open hand and Noah gave a little start. He overcame his surprise rather quickly, though.

“Amazing!”

Saracen smiled when Noah continued to pepper them with questions. After the harrowing night he had spent, it was lovely to simply sit and chat with his friends. The sun was shining and Noah had made him hot chocolate with whipped cream – what else could he wish for? Dexter was on the bed right beside him, their shoulders touching, knowing how much physical contact comforted him. It did good to push their problems at the back of their heads for a little while. 

“Mr. Rue?”

“Hm? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. And you can call me Saracen, if you like. This is Dexter.”

Noah blushed. “I … I just wanted to ask whether you still need some more muesli or anything.”

“I'm good, thanks. It was delicious. And I think it goes without saying that you must never tell anyone about magic or even having met us.”

Smiling, Noah nodded. “Well, I have always believed in magic, perhaps my imagination was a little different than how the truth turned out to be, but still. I think it was around the age of fourteen that I ceased telling people about the books I was reading. Nobody ever wanted to listen to such 'stupid nonsense' and told me I should think ahead, plan what I wanted to become and do with my life in the future. They said imagining things was a waste of time and energy, the which I should spend on my studies.”

“Sorry to hear that”, Dexter said and meant it. He knew there was nothing worse than destroying a child's dreams by letting them feel how invalid they were. 

Noah nodded and continued. “I actually wanted to become a librarian or a bookseller or even an archivist because I love surrounding myself with all those fantastic worlds where I'm at home. My parents who owned this hotel thought it was not lucrative enough so I learned how to run a customer-serving business instead. It was only five years ago that I took over once they retired.”

“Where are they now?” Dexter asked.

Noah shrugged. “I don’t even know. I think they took to travelling, seeing the world. Sometimes I feel as though they had always wanted to do that instead of running a hotel. It can be quite boring at times.”

“I know a grumpy man who owns a hotel and he loves it. He was or somehow still is part of our military branch and relishes in the fact that he can lead a more or less normal life without all the fighting and death. But if we needed him, he would be there, ready to punch people for us.”

Saracen listened, thankful that the focus of the conversation had shifted from him to Noah. This way, the questions he knew Dexter would pose, were still far away. Or so he thought.

“Maybe you could call someone from this squad? Saracen got tortured last night and it might be too much for just two lone soldiers. What exactly happened to you?” Noah asked. The concept of restraint was obviously foreign to him. It had been swept away by his curiosity to know everything about the magical world.

Saracen blinked. “Huh?”

As much as Dexter wanted to snicker at the display of utter lack of tact, he knew his husband refrained from talking about negative experiences. Especially if it came to torture. “Give him some more time, Noah.”

“I’m wondering as well, though”, came a voice from the door. Lagrima was leaning in the frame with arms crossed. Nobody had either seen or heard her approach. Stealth seemed to be one of her specialities, as well as dramatic entries.

“Lagrima!” Saracen's head shot up. “I don't think I’ve had the possibility to thank you for my rescue yet.”

Dexter cleared his throat meaningfully.

“Oh… thanks for the rescue, Dex.”

“You're the worst”, Vex declared and gave Saracen a quick peck on the cheek.

Lagrima entered the now crowded room and cleared a small corner of the desk from papers for her to sit on. “Now, Vex was not willing to talk to me without you, Rue but now that you're awake I would really appreciate if you told me what the hell you two have to do with Corvo.”

Saracen and Dexter exchanged a quick glance. Then Vex spoke up. “Would you believe it was a coincidence that we even met her?”

Lagrima sighed and rubbed her temples. “It takes a lot of skill to sniff out danger and trouble like you do. People are right, you Dead Men are a nightmare.”

“Are you dead?!” Noah asked, his voice notably higher than before. At this point they could have told him anything and he would have with no hesitation believed it.

Saracen laughed and waved his hand. “No, don't worry. The military branch of the Irish magician army we belong to is called the Dead Men. We were given the name because we came back from missions that were designated impossible.”

Lagrima frowned at the ginger man sitting on the brim of the armchair in an upright position, kneading his vest again. “Is it really wise to drag a civilian into this?” She was too educated to say 'mortal' and had no sympathies for people who looked down on others simply because they could or would not meet their fancy expectations. Sorcerer or not. “I don't wish to see him hurt.”

“Noah is a good man, he has done so much for us already and it would be unfair to send him away now”, Dexter said. “Besides, it’s his hotel and he could have turned us away last night but he didn't. Even though he didn't understand the whole situation then, there were no questions asked. Noah knew it would be dangerous if he let us stay but he didn't care.”

Lagrima nodded and gave the ginger a bright smile. “Welcome to the sorcerer's squad then, Noah. I'm Lagrima by the way.” She leaned forward and shook a baffled Noah's hand.

“Uh … nice to meet you, Lagrima.” The receptionist hesitated for a moment. “If I'm not entirely mistaken, lagrima is an old Italian word meaning 'tear'.”

The girl raised an eyebrow, obviously impressed. “That's correct.”

“Sometimes I listen to opera. That is – regrettably – the extend of my Italian vocabulary. What is your magic?”

Lagrima laughed. “Awfully nosy, aren't you? I'm an Adept like Vex and Rue. My power is electricity.”

“Can I see?”

Jagged bluish-white tendrils of electricity erupted from the girl's fingertips and palm in a controlled manner.

“Wow ...”

Lagrima snapped her hand shut, the electricity vanished and all that remained was the faint smell of ozone hanging in the air. “Now then, back to the topic. How exactly did you get involved in this mess?”

Saracen scratched his head, not wanting to admit just yet how they had come to track down a gang of thieves and stumbled upon a major operation. “What is your business with Corvo?” he asked instead.

“She is my case. As I said before, I’m an Italian Sanctuary detective and it is my job to arrest her. I’ve been trying to find her for two years now and have finally obtained information about her location.”

Dexter nodded. “We met her on the battlefield in Spain once but actually I have assumed she had died during the War. Apparently, I was wrong.”

“Corvo vanished when Baron Vengeous was defeated and her Weltanschauung was completely obliterated by the failure of bringing the Faceless Ones back in the 50's.”

“60's”, Saracen corrected. “Skulduggery beat the Baron in 1861. Grand battle that was, although he cheated.”

Noah blinked and laughed uneasily. “You say it as though you had been present.”

“I was.”

“Oh.”

“I’m over four hundred years old”, Saracen clarified.

“I see. Let me just sit here and think about that for a moment. I dare not to ask how old you are, Lagrima”, Noah said weakly.

The girl smiled. “I was born in 1821 but uh … Even sorceresses that are that old are not supposed to look like twenty. I'm afraid there was a druid once that I crossed and he … well, he cursed me to look my, quote unquote, 'immature, impudent, arrogant and disgusting self' until I die.”

“Charming”, Saracen remarked.

“Anyway”, the girl continued. “Me and Corvo go way back. She was not always on the wrong side in this never-ending war. There was a time when she worshipped the Faceless Ones on a more or less healthy level. The Baron poisoned her mind.”

Dexter shifted on the bed and put an arm around Saracen's waist. “Then I only met her after she jumped ship and became a more fanatic member of the church.”

Lagrima nodded. “Few people remember her the way she was before she gave up reason for knowledge. That is what she seeks above all else, you know. Corvo was born from a, let's call it a wealthy family in the late 1400's in northern Italy. Due to her parents' intense care and money, she could afford to sit inside their library all day long and study volume after volume.”

“How did you meet? You say you knew her before she became ultimately crazy. That leaves about forty years”, Saracen wanted to know, stealing a sidelong glance at Noah. Even though the ginger probably had no clue what they were talking about, he was listening to every word that was exchanged. To him it was surely equally to reading a book heading into a direction he could not really follow but he still intended to keep reading until it all made sense.

The girl inhaled deeply, obviously hesitant to share all of her past. “That's not really important right now. Corvo completely snapped after Vengeous was imprisoned. She was devastated when she learned, the Faceless Ones could more than likely not be brought back. And then she vanished. Left overnight. Since we had a minor disagreement shortly before, I didn’t have the courage nor the mind to follow and look for her.” Lagrima's voice had turned bitter. “I always tried to stay out of the mess that was the War and joined the Italian Sanctuary when I needed work. It was about five years ago Corvo resurfaced again but I decided, not to get involved. Personal issues.”

“She tortured you, right?” Dexter asked with cold lacing his voice. “You have been her prisoner.”

“It's … it's not that easy. You don't understand. We used to be friends, family even. But that is all in the past and right now, I will do everything I can to stop whatever malevolent plan she is cooking.”

“Hatching”, Saracen corrected with a smile. Lagrima's English was exceptionally good and yet there was the occasional misuse of words which was really cute. Although he was quite sure she didn't want to be told her English was cute. “You hatch a plan.”

“Okay, let's focus on the present”, Vex propositioned. “What is she after?”

Lagrima shrugged. “I have no idea. Knowledge as far as I'm concerned but how or in what manner, I don't know. Tonight I wanted to sneak into the factory and take a look around but was delayed with a daring rescue mission after hearing the Dead Men were in town. Some old man got himself captured.”

“Oi!” Saracen said in mock offence and Lagrima blew him a kiss.

“The amulet!” Saracen shouted and the sudden outburst had everyone give a start. “I … I had it. There it was and … where is it? Where are my jeans from last night?” Excited he squirmed out of Dexter's arms and leaped up from the bed, almost knocking over the cup with the rest of hot chocolate.

Vex leaned against the wall and put his arm behind his head as a cushion. “Relax. We know you nicked it. It's there on the desk. We didn't want to touch anything, though. Important was to patch you up and construct a shield around the hotel.”

“A shield? As in energy shield? What about the other customers of the hotel?”

Noah blushed a deep red and his answer was mumbled. “Actually, people only come here for breakfast. You and Dexter have been the first customers I’ve had in weeks. It is mostly just me and my cats roaming the building.”

“That's kinda sad”, Lagrima stated.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” The girl turned her attention back to Saracen. “You think Corvo is after the amulet?”

“Maybe. She did have scientists experiment on the thing, that much I was able to see between … sessions. But she has a whole lot of stolen artefacts stored in that warehouse. Shelves upon shelves filled with magical objects; it looked like Corvo's personal repository.”

Noah shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Will this Corvo person come after us?”

“Definitely. She lost her prize – and me”, Saracen said, remembering the mad sparkle in Corvo's eyes when she had declared him to be the chosen one. “Muttered something about me having been chosen to be the key to some door that will lead to the conclusion of her crusade or something. This part highly disturbs me; she obviously needs me a alive but for what purpose?”

“Human sacrifice”, Lagrima joked and Saracen winced.

“Wouldn't be the first time church members tried to open portals by using human sacrifices in order to please the Faceless Ones”, the girl pointed out, oblivious to Saracen's discomfort and now seriously considering this option.

“You suggest she wants to bring the Faceless Ones back to this world?” Dexter asked while soothingly stroking Saracen's back.

Lagrima shrugged. “She wouldn't be the first one to try. Of course, we cannot know for sure unless we ask Corvo herself.”

“Are we safe here? I ask again”, Noah cut in. “I mean, I feel a lot better after we let those men out of my cellar but-”

“You what? Dexter?”

Vex held up his hands defensively. “The risk of having Spencer and his men locked into the boiler room was too high. The thought of them breaking out and helping Corvo from the inside has had me on edge. Numerous possibilities come to mind: disabling the shield from within, taking Noah hostage and so forth. A battle fought on two fronts is what we really don't need right now.”

“They have five more men now”, Saracen pointed out. “But I see your point. At least they’re going to come at us from only one direction – the front.”

Noah cleared his throat. “Are we safe then?”

“I put the shield up myself and linked it to my magic. If anyone attacks it, I’ll know”, Lagrima said. “It will hold them off and as long as we don't step outside, we should be fine.”

Saracen picked up the brown paper folder that had accompanied the amulet and flipped it open. “These are the results the scientists got from experimenting on the damn amulet. Let me see … You two, take a look at the green folder if you please.” Saracen picked it up and let it fly onto the bed where his husband was stretching to reach it.

“Sure.” Vex peeked at the first and only sheet and snorted. “Lagrima, if you were so kind.”

“Hm?”

“It’s Italian.”

Lagrima retrieved the piece of paper and started reading and suddenly burst out laughing. “Saracen, how did you manage to pick exactly this piece of paper? I’m sure there were a lot available, right?”

Saracen drew his eyebrows together. “Yes, the whole desk was covered … why? What’s the matter with it?”

“Mr. Rue, you took the only folder that is absolutely useless to us in this moment. It is literally just a collection of quotes from books she likes.”

Saracen stared while Dexter shook his head, laughing and even Noah smiled, bemused. “Luck has not been my friend lately”, he mused and continued to read with the others watching him.

Finally, Saracen looked up and took the small leather satchel containing the amulet in hand. “Alright then.”

Dexter held up his hand. “Wait a minute there. We shouldn't really touch it with it being dangerous and all.”

“It already absorbed all of my magical powers, what else could it do?”

“That thing could kill you, you moron!”

Saracen flopped the leather back and stuck his hand inside.

“Don't!” three voices shouted in unison.

Lagrima immediately pushed away from the desk and ducked behind the armchair while Dexter moved up from the bed as though he wanted to hurl himself at his husband. Noah seemed to be rooted to the spot, settled into the chair.

The mage pulled the object from within its leathery container and held it into the sun, examining it. Nothing happened. No lightning bolt striking him down, no red light ending him then and there. He simply held it.

Dexter was about to punch Saracen in the face. “You fucking idiot! What the hell, man?!” He hated to admit that his heart was pounding way too fast and that he felt light-headed. What if that thing had hurt Saracen? He couldn't begin to fathom what it would have felt like to lose his husband for good.

“Don't worry. I informed myself. It is completely harmless to non-sorcerers”, Saracen waved his hand dismissively and carefully put the amulet down onto the desk, spreading the papers so he had all the required information at hand.

Vex couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Are you out of your mind? You informed yourself? Who says that whoever scribbled those notes down knows what they are talking about? Besides, you are a sorcerer.”

“I lost all of my magic”, Saracen said bitterly. “I'm not a sorcerer right now. I can feel the void where my magic is supposed to be and hell, I'm going to reclaim it. I feel so empty, so fucking useless and that is why I will take matters into my own hand.”

Dexter stared at him. “You're actually going to poke this thing until it is so annoyed it will give you back your powers, am I right?”

“Basically, yes.”

“My god, you're so crazy.” Dexter ran his fingers through his hair.

“Could you think this over for one second?” Noah butted into their conversation. It had only taken one quick glance at the magical object to recognise it and its powers. “This is some serious business, okay? I happen to know this amulet and let me tell you, it is old.”

“I need my magic back!”

“What good will it do you when you’re dead? And seriously, you were stupid enough to touch it?” Lagrima chimed in.

Saracen looked down at the girl defiantly. “Mistakes happen. We had no intention of messing up Corvo's plans. All we wanted was to retrieve the amulet so I could have my fucking magic back, okay?”

“This amulet is meant as a burial gift to appease the Morrígan and let the dead into the Otherworld”, Noah said.

Dexter held up his hands, palms facing outwards and his expression was one of utter incredulity. “Hold on a second. You want to tell me, this crappy piece of metal is an ancient burial gift?”

Noah nodded firmly. “Correct.”

“How do we always end up in such things? Saracen, I blame you.”

“Unfair but accepted.” Saracen frowned. Confronted with these new problems he was no longer sure they could handle the situation themselves. “We should probably call this in.”

Dexter huffed. “Since when are you so keen on reporting back to the Elders?” Rubbing his eyes, the blond dropped into the chair next to the desk. “I already called Ghastly last night. You were hurt and I thought maybe he could send us help. However, he cannot send any back-up at the moment. They are having a minor catastrophe going on. Something about the end of the world again and he is not able to dispatch any Sanctuary members immediately. He is trying to shift some people around but until then we are on our own.”

“Catastrophe?”

“Skul and Val are involved. Wreaking havoc I hear. The usual, really.”

The mages were so caught up in their little argument, none of them had seen Noah get out of his armchair and approach the amulet still lying on the desk. Harmless to non-sorcerers? That was what Mr. Rue had said. The receptionist bent over the sheets covered in drawings and notes, then turned to the amulet. It was a beautiful piece of silver metal forged into a more or less oval ring with runes carved into the outer rim. Three lines spread out from the centre of the amulet like a cobweb and in its exact middle lay a dark blue stone which was held by the silver threads. A last glance at the notes and Noah placed his fingers into the empty spaces between the metal and turned them clockwise while holding the outer ring in place.

The sound of the tendrils clicking into the next position made everyone turn.

“I reversed it. Now, Mr. Rue should be getting his powers back by simply touching it again”, Noah declared proudly.

The mages gaped. Lagrima was the first to speak. “How exactly did you reverse it?”

“Apparently if you rotate the inner part of the amulet, it should not absorb but distribute. At least that is what I gathered from those notes.”

“Saracen, no”, Dexter warned in a low growl. “If you touch this and die I will wallop you, I swear!” Secretly he knew that his husband would not hesitate.

Saracen licked his lip before slowly reaching out towards the silver object. “How sure are you about this, Noah? I’m totally ready to risk my life in order to get my magic back but I would rather live to experience Dexter lecturing me about my recklessness.”

“Quite sure.” The nervous undertone was obvious in his voice. “At least forty percent.”

Saracen laughed nervously. “Man, those odds are wild.”

“Don't. Honey, please.”

Saracen screwed his eyes shut and let his fingers brush against the cold metal. He expected a bang or a flash of light. A sizzling or weird feeling. Instead, there was … nothing. Disappointed, he drew his hand back. “I guess that was a wrong call”, he said and collapsed.

“Saracen! No, no, no!” Dexter rushed to his husband's side, kneeling next to Saracen's curled up form. Tears were threatening when he saw that the mage was breathing hard and clutching at his chest, a pained expression edged into his features.

Saracen shuddered one last time, then his eyes he had shut firmly, snapped open again and his breathing steadied. “Whoa, that was harsh.”

“Are you okay?”

Saracen nodded and his trademark smirk appeared on his lips. “I got my magic back.”


	9. Truths at Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After what happened nobody seems to be sleeping particularly well - more discussions.

Saracen was not sure what had woken him up. It was still dark and the only light in the hotel room was the faint glow of moonlight falling through the window. Saracen sat up and moved back until he was leaning against the headboard.

After the fiasco of the previous day, Saracen and Dexter had been given another room. The day had been spent with pointless discussions where everyone and that included Noah had thrown their theories and thoughts into the conversation. In the end they had decided to sleep it over before coming up with a plan. For now they were safe behind the energy shield Lagrima had constructed around the building.

Next to Saracen, Dexter grumbled something in his sleep. Saracen smiled and watched his husband for a moment. What must he have thought when he had been kidnapped? Dexter must have been furious and worried beyond imagining. In the two centuries they had been together Saracen had gotten to know Dexter better than anyone. He knew that with the right people Dexter was much softer than his usual cocksure attitude would let on. Saracen also knew that he was Dexter’s weak spot as much as Dexter was his. Before they had gotten together it had been easier but still hard seeing the other in pain but now that romance was involved the fear of losing Dexter was crippling. But love also made them stronger. Saracen was certain Dexter would tear down everything in his path to get to him if he were in danger. He would die for him and while Saracen was happy to have someone who looked after him he’d rather Dex stayed with him. Gently, Saracen stroked his stubbly cheek before curling his fingers in Dexter’s soft blond hair.

“Sarcn?” Dexter mumbled sleepily and rolled onto his side to blink up at him. “Whatisit?”

Saracen sighed. “Go back to sleep, honey. I was just thinking.”

“That’s never good.” Dexter sat up as well, more or less awake now. Tiredly, he let himself fall against the headboard next to Saracen. “Especially in the middle of the night.”

“Shut up”, Saracen snorted but with a smile.

“Hey”, Dexter whispered softly and placed a finger under Saracen's chin, lifting his head up and leaned in to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Talk to me.”

“I can't shake the feeling, Dex. Pain by beating is one thing but what she did to me … it was terrible”, Saracen finally admitted quietly and moved closer to Dexter who drew him into his arms and rested his chin on his head. Dexter didn’t press. Saracen would talk when he was ready. “She would draw ink-runes on my skin that entered my bloodstream and set me on fire. The ink would course through my veins and it felt like I was burning from the inside out. There was only pain. Hot white pain slamming into me. Over and over again. I even dare say that Serpine's famous red hand is less effective than Corvo's ink poison.”

Dexter remained silent, but began stroking circles onto Saracen’s back.

“I wanted to see you again, Dex. That is what kept me going, although the agony was extraordinary. The amulet, the honour, I didn't care about any of it. I knew, if I broke, she would kill me and then I never would have seen you again. I just wanted to see you again.” Saracen's voice was trembling and he had his arms wrapped around Dexter, soaking in his scent, feeling the smooth skin of his back under his fingers. “I knew you would find me if only I were strong enough to endure for the time it took you to get to me.”

“Sorry it took me so long.”

Saracen looked up when he heard Dexter's voice shake ever so slightly and saw the tears glistening on his cheeks. “I made you sad”, he said quietly. “How rude of me.”

Despite himself, Dexter huffed with a smile and pulled up his nose. “I love you, you absolute idiot.”

“I love you too.” 

Saracen smiled. Dexter was there for him, no matter the odds, no matter the threat they faced. They would always face them together. Voicing his thoughts had lifted some of the weight off his chest and he was still embracing his husband when he finally fell asleep again.

**ooOoOoo**

Saracen wasn’t the only one with sleeping troubles this night. One floor above, Lagrima was sitting on her balcony’s broad balustrade, deep in thought. She didn’t hear the knock at her door or the soft call of her name. Lagrima nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard soft footsteps on the carpet behind her. She cursed under her breath.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you”, Noah said apologetically as he stepped out onto the balcony. “But I was worried when you wouldn’t answer and your door was ajar.”

Lagrima nodded, her heart rate slowly approaching normal speed again. The relief that washed over her almost made her light-headed. She’d been looking over her shoulder for too long. Here at the hotel she had actually felt safe enough to let her hair down for once. Lagrima missed the peaceful days when she didn’t have to worry about being attacked any second. “Sorry, I was lost in thought. Your cats are adorable. This sweet fluffy swirl came to see me and I wanted her to be able to leave again, hence the open door.” Lagrima pointed to her lap where an orange cat had rolled up and was purring as Lagrima stroked her.

“Caramel really likes people”, Noah agreed. “I was wondering where she had gone. Saracen is very fond of cats so I thought all three of them would be in their room. Abducted by him obviously.”

Lagrima smiled at Caramel’s name and scratched her behind the ears. “It was as though she could sense that I didn’t want to be alone right now. It’s been a long day and tomorrow won’t be any easier. I haven’t felt like I could leave the door to my room open in a very long time.”

“Have you always been alone? No one to watch your back?”

Lagrima was silent for a while, simply stroking Caramel as though she hadn’t heard the question. She appreciated that Noah didn’t press or apologise for asking. Eventually she said: “I haven’t found the right person yet. Someone who would accept my love but wouldn’t demand romance or more from me. I want more than friendship. I want what Vex and Rue have but without … you know, romance or sex.”

“So you’re asexual?” It was more of a statement than a question. Not a hint of confusion or curiosity. Just acceptance.

Lagrima nodded. If she was surprised that Noah knew the term she didn’t show it. “Trust has to go both ways but if I have to worry that my partner might want more than I could ever give then it’s not the relationship I am looking for.”

“Agreed. You deserve to find a person that allows you to finally leave the door to your room open during the night.”

“Well, I’ll keep looking”, Lagrima said with a smile.

“What about family, if you don’t mind me asking. Just say the word and I stop prying. It’s just, out of all the three mages that I met so far you seem the most untethered, the most likely to get lost in this world.”

Lagrima huffed. “Yeah, I guess that about sums it up.”

Silence engulfed them before Noah took one of the balcony chairs and sat down. “As a child I’ve always imagined that I could travel to the stars when I came out here once my parents had gone to sleep. I would make up the wildest stories and go on adventures while the night carried on around me. It’s a good place to let one’s thoughts roam. But it’s dangerous to get lost in bad memories at night when the world seems darker. Especially if there is nobody to talk to.”

Lagrima considered Noah’s offer. When she glanced at him he was looking up at the night sky. It fascinated her how he could be so calm and caring at a time like this. Was it naiveté? Noah knew nothing about the world of sorcerers and if he wasn’t careful he would end up hurt. But he had something about him that made her want to take him along on their adventure. Some strength that was hidden under the surface. “How old are you?” Lagrima asked suddenly.

“Twenty-five”, Noah said, surprised. “Why?”

“Even though you know that Mila is trying to kill us and get that amulet back you're oddly calm. You have seen what she does to people who stand in her way and it will only get worse from now on. Are you sure you don’t want to leave town?”

Noah nodded. “You probably think it’s all a big game to me. A new mysterious and fascinating world of magic that just waits to be discovered.” Noah wasn’t smiling and his usual cheery demeanour had been replaced by sombreness. “It’s just … I have nowhere else to go and if the world is about to end then I’d like to help save it. I know I’m not a mage or have special fighting skills but maybe I can be of use. I'm just as scared as you are. Nobody wants to die and I would love to live a long life with my cats and books. I think I can fight for that.”

Lagrima smiled and nodded, satisfied. The only sound that was heard for a long while were Caramel’s sleepy purrs. 

“Do you love your parents?”

Noah blinked in surprise and chuckled. “Are all mages this bad at small talk?” When Lagrima just looked at him expectantly Noah sighed. “I guess I do. I mean, they are my parents. Even though they never showed any interest in what I really cared about they aren’t bad people. I liked spending time together. Is that pathetic?”

“No, I don’t think it’s pathetic. Perhaps your parents never knew how else to show their love.”

Noah frowned. “Could be. But I think you don’t really want to talk about my parents. What’s this really about?”

Lagrima looked up at the sky for a long time before she started to talk. Somehow it was easy to talk to Noah. “Mila adopted me when I was a child.” She ignored Noah’s surprise. “It’s been a happy childhood for me. Mila was kind and radiant and loved to show me all kinds of books. She would even teach me magic. The fact that she’d been born into a wealthy family allowed her to focus on her studies and she would teach me as well. Mila was, however also a devotee of the Faceless Ones.”

“Those Faceless Ones keep coming up. What or who are they exactly?”

“Oh, sorry, I forget that you don’t know so much about us yet. The Faceless Ones are, hm, giant Gods in another dimension. They have no faces.” Noah stared at her. “You know now that I say it out loud it really sounds bonkers. A long time ago they lived in this dimension but were eventually driven out by other cooler Gods called The Ancients. The Faceless Ones still try to come back into our dimension to most likely kill us all.”

“And there is an uh, cult that worships them?” Noah didn’t sound particularly convinced.

“A church. It’s a religion in the sorcerer’s world. They want the Faceless Ones to return and rule over the world with them as their prophets or something. It’s nuts.”

“And Corvo was part of the church, right?”

“Maybe she still is. I have no idea what she is up to this time but it has got to be big. She’s always been trying to know as much as possible about everything. It wouldn’t surprise me if she were trying to open a portal to the dimension of the Faceless Ones to see what their world looks like. Or to try and talk to them.” There was a silence. “She used to be so different.”

“What happened?”

Lagrima shrugged. “Mila got involved with Baron Vengeous, a high church member. He was the one who started talking about opening portals and bringing the Faceless Ones back. Mila was fascinated. I think less by the fact that they would rule over us but the possibility to learn even more. She got obsessed. Every step closer to the knowledge of the Faceless Ones was a step further away from reason. And from me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that”, Noah said quietly. “Did she -- I mean, how did you come to be a detective? That’s what you do, right?”

“Yes. By the time I was eighteen Mila had become so obsessed that I avoided her whenever I could. She would go on about opening a portal and inviting the Faceless Ones but I thought it was just nonsense. Until one day she asked me to help her. I saw no real harm in it because how likely was it that she would actually succeed in tearing the walls between dimensions with the limited means that she had? Mila explained to me that she believed an enormous amount of energy to be needed to open a portal.” Noah didn’t press when Lagrima stopped talking.

“By the time I realised what she was planning to do it was too late for me to get away. In their late teens a sorcerer’s final magical ability is defined. Let’s say you’ve studied Elemental Magic all your life then the likelihood of you remaining an Elemental is relatively high.”

“But you’re not an Elemental. Have you studied electricity all your life then?”

Lagrima shook their head. “I used to be an Elemental but magic is unpredictable and apparently I was more cut out for electricity than elements. One day my magic changed. During this process, which is very painful, by the way, a massive amount of energy is released. Don’t ask me the details, I have no idea how this works.”

Noah paled when he made the connection. “She forced your magic to change?” His voice was no more than a whisper. “To open a portal?”

“Yes and the moment she used force I knew she was no longer the Mila I knew. Ironically enough it didn’t work. And I was furious. My new magic was burning me up and I had no control over it yet. I was so angry and hurt I lashed out at Mila with everything I’ve got. Suddenly the house was on fire. And then the next. People died that day.” Lagrima’s voice had gotten ever more quiet.

“I’m sorry. I’d like to say that it wasn’t your fault but you probably wouldn’t accept that.”

“You’re right. I’ll have to live with the guilt of killing people because I couldn’t control my anger. That’s why I’ve become a detective, trying to do some good in this world.” Lagrima chuckled mirthlessly. “And I feel guilty about being a detective as though I was the biggest hypocrite on the planet.”

“I don’t think you’re a hypocrite, Lagrima. You’re trying to stop Mila and I think you’ve spent a lot of time on this case already. You want to stop her from achieving whatever she is trying to do.”

“But what is Mila planning?” Lagrima mused. “Why is the amulet so important to her? What can it do? It absorbs power. Perhaps she wants to gain enough energy to finally open a portal for the Faceless Ones? But even she has to realise that they are not friendly and will kill her the moment they step through.”

Noah thought about this. “What if it’s not about the Faceless Ones? What if she wants to use the amulet for it’s original purpose?”

“And what’s that?”

“As I said earlier it was a burial gift for a person of noble standing. It should protect the dead on their way to the Otherworld.” Noah suddenly stood up and hurried back into the room. “I have to read up on some things.”


	10. Mythology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More mythology that ties in with Mila's plans.

“How's the plan coming along?” Lagrima was slouching comfortably in the armchair in the lobby, her legs dangling over one arm. Taking another bite from her slice of bread which was covered with a finger-thick layer of Nutella, she looked at the others expectantly.

Dexter shook his head. “It's not. On top of it, Corvo has the hotel under surveillance. If we leave, she knows. Although she sent Spencer who looks really pissed.”

“Really?” Noah asked and walked to the window.

And really there was Spencer’s little gang watching the hotel. Although they were trying to act casual it was clear that they weren’t sightseeing. They were stuck and would not be going anywhere anytime soon. At least not until they had figured out a plan.

Saracen glanced at the silver piece of jewellery lying between them on the glass table. “It has got to do something with the amulet. That thing has enormous power. Who knows? Perhaps it could be used to tear down the walls between the dimensions and create a path for the Faceless Ones?”

“Mila would be crazy enough to try it”, Lagrima agreed, stuffing the last of her bread in her mouth.

“Tell us more about this thirst for knowledge”, Noah requested. “Maybe that way we can learn more about her motives. I read up on some things yesterday and have a theory but I want to be sure before I share it. Might be nothing but stupid little ideas.”

“You’re the bookworm. I don’t think you have stupid ideas”, Saracen said, getting a smile out of Noah.

“All right. Mila craves to obtain knowledge but not for power or strength. In a sick way she is just curious.”

Saracen rubbed his cheeks and raised his eyebrows. “You're telling me, she killed hundreds of people because she is _curious_?”

Lagrima nodded earnestly. “Yes. Mila was not always this cold person you know. She was kind and warm … but none of those traits have survived her descend into madness.”

“Noah told us what happened”, Dexter said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“I hope it was all right. I felt a bit in over my head with all this violence and torture and I thought – I mean … I wasn’t-”, he stuttered.

Lagrima just shook her head and waved her hand dismissively. “They would have found out anyway. Don’t worry.”

“What if she _does_ intend to bring something to this world and ask it some questions about what is out there?” Noah asked again, focusing on the topic at hand again.

“It is not like you could expect a bodiless entity from another dimension to step through a portal and have a cup of tea with Corvo while she asks it how the weather over there was. She has got to know that the Faceless Ones are not in a chatty mood. Skulduggery spent a year with them and all they ever gave to him was torture. They never talked no matter what he tried”, Dexter pointed out. This conversation was going round in circles again and he was already tired of it.

Noah was not ready to give up on his theory yet. “But the amulet contains massive energy, right? What if that energy, this raw power could be collected and then used to draw a bodiless entity as you so freely called it into our dimension?”

Lagrima nodded approvingly. “Others have tried. Others have already succeeded.”

“What does she need me for, then?” Saracen asked. “Corvo referred to me as key, if I may be so selfish as to bring that into the conversation.”

Silence ensued as everybody thought really hard how this piece could fit into their theory. In the end Lagrima spoke up. “I'm still for human sacrifice.”

“Come on! Maybe she is just jealous of my power because I know things? And she wants to absorb my magic? You know, knowledge and stuff.”

“It is the only thing that makes sense”, Lagrima defended herself.

Dexter smirked. “There wouldn't have been much to absorb.”

“The amulet is definitely the centre of all of this”, Saracen suggested, shooting an irritated look at Dexter. “What do we know about it? It absorbs power and it distributes power. But look at it. There are three strands. What does the last one do?”

Dexter slapped Saracen’s hand out of the way when he tried to touch the amulet. “We are not doing that!”

“It kills you.”

Saracen snapped his hand back and stared at Noah. “What? How do you know?”

“As I said I’ve been reading up on some myths and legends last night after I had an interesting thought. What if Corvo wants to use the amulet as a door opener? Initially it was a burial gift and the one who would protect you on your way to the other side was the Morrígan. It would be logical to appease her, right?”

The mages stared. Noah blushed again. “I mean, it would also fit with the human sacrifice. The Otherworld is shut off from our dimension but when a soul passes over there is a chance that a human might be able as well.”

“That … actually makes sense?” Dexter frowned. “Provided that the myths are true and the Otherworld really exists.”

Noah beamed. Up until now he had effaced himself as much as possible during the heated arguments. Most of the things he didn't understand and he didn't want to seem too nosy and ask questions all the time. But this was something apart from making hot chocolate that he could do: books and words and stories were Noah's field of expertise and he would pull his weight and not be left out. He would stun them with what he knew!

“Let’s just assume it really does exist. For argument’s sake. The Otherworld is a beautiful place and horrifying at the very same time. What is fascinating about it, is that it is all around us. The two dimensions overlap perfectly just us lowly humans are unable to see it. It is like another universe occupying the exact same space.”

Lagrima was kneeling on the armchair, a radiant and curious air about her and she had forgotten all about her hot chocolate with extra whipped cream Noah had prepared for her earlier.

“Things work differently in the Otherworld. Time for example passes much faster. It’s a place where diseases, illnesses and grief to not exist. Only bliss.”

“Sounds exhausting”, Dexter commented drily.

“Everything is balanced in the Otherworld. Contradictions exist but they level themselves out. Nothing is a fixed point, everything flows and changes shape, hence it is the land of infinite possibilities.” Noah took a deep breath. “Also, the Otherworld harbours the absolute truth.”

Stunned silence engulfed the mages and they stared at Noah almost with their mouths open. For a long moment, nobody said a word.

“Absolute truth”, Lagrima whispered. “Knowledge that has no bound. That’s what Mila wants!”

“How sure are we about this?” Saracen wanted to know.

Noah pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully picked up the amulet. “I’ve been doing some research on the amulet and on the Morrígan as well. As I said before the three tendrils of silver each have a special ability. Draw power. Distribute power. Kill. They stand for the Morrígan.”

“How?”

“There are different interpretations as to who or what the Morrígan is. Legends are tricky that way because details change over time or get lost when the stories are passed on. Most think the Morrígan is a single person while others claim that she is a trinity, albeit a negative one. Evil and associated with death and despair. Morrígan in this case would be more like a title for three different goddesses who each have a task.”

“You couldn’t have read up on all this in just a few hours. How much did you know already?” Lagrima asked, clearly impressed.

“I’ve always loved myths and legends, especially Irish and Celtic ones. Makes sense, I’m Irish. I used to read tons of books when I was younger but I’ve forgotten so much again.”

Saracen raised his hand like a student during a lesson. “I've got this! The three goddesses that form the Morrígan are Macha, Badbh and Nemain!” Smugly, he smiled at Dexter who only rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth were twitching treacherously. Secretly, he loved how Saracen pulled facts out of his sleeve and presented them with that charming confidence of his.

“Quite right, Saracen.“

Dexter scratched his head. “Never heard of that last one before. Babh is the mother of battle, that's for sure. She comes in the form of an old crow, if I remember correctly and she circles the skies above the blood-stained field of the slain.”

“Correct. Babh is probably the most feared out of the three goddesses. Whenever and wherever she appeared amongst the warriors, fear and despair followed her like a foul stench. Battle-hardened warriors would toss their weapons aside and flee upon hearing Babh's scream thunder across the plains”, Noah confirmed.

“Who are the other two?” Lagrima asked curiously. Out of them all she knew the least about Irish mythology. She was pretty knowledgeable when it came to Roman or even Greek deities but these northern gods were pretty interesting as well.

Noah gave a small cry of excitement. “Ah, this is a tricky one. You see, Macha was not always a goddess of war and destruction. She was kind and warm-hearted and carried the title of goddess of fertility.”

“What changed her?”

“A man – as usual. Macha was married to King Conchobar. Legend has it he would brag how she could outrun a horse and forced her to prove it in front of an audience while she was pregnant. Macha made the race but collapsed after the finish line. During her last moments, she gave birth to twins and her last breath carried the words to curse the men of Ireland.”

Lagrima grinned. She already liked Macha. “What was the curse?”

“Whenever the warriors of Eire faced battle and would have to rely on their strength the most they should be struck with the same pain and weakness a woman experiences once a month. Five days and four nights they would have to endure the agony.”

Lagrima snickered and a devilish smirk appeared on her face. “I like her.”

“Nemain is the most interesting and dangerous one. I’ve read that Cúchulainn, our well known Irish hero, once roared his battle cry towards the sky as motivation for his warriors. Nemain took is as a challenge and her answer was a scream so terrible, it drove a hundred warriors to their deaths. Either they died of fright right away or killed themselves because the gnawing terror was too much to bear.”

“I like her as well”, Lagrima concluded with a satisfied nod.

Dexter frowned. “Wait a moment. You said the amulet is meant to soothe the Morrígan's wrath and each silver tendril represents one of the goddesses. One to draw power from warriors – Babh. Saracen's weapon is his magic.”

Lagrima's mouth formed a silent 'oh' and her eyes began to shine. “Assuming Macha is the one they want to please the most, one would appeal to her kindness before she became all vengeance and blood-thirsty. She would be the one to distribute power – giving Rue his magic back!”

“Wow”, Saracen said. “As ridiculous as this sounds, it makes sense. And Nemain would be the one to kill you. That is brilliant!”

“Saracen, darling?”

The mage immediately picked up on the overly friendly tone and narrowed his eyes warily. “Yes?”

“This new theory tells me you had a good chance of dying touching the amulet a second time.”

Saracen winced uneasily before giving his husband his sweetest smile. “Don't be mad?”

“Oh, I bloody hate you sometimes. Just be glad you’re still alive or else there would be hell to pay”, Dexter grumbled good-naturedly. At this point it made no sense arguing about such a trifle. The past was in the past and what had happened could not be undone. Saracen was alive and well – more or less – and that was everything Dexter could ever wish for so he decided to drop the matter.

Lagrima studied the amulet. “Could it be used to fight back?”

“Have you ever read _‘The Lord of the Rings’_?” Noah asked, half joking, half disbelieving.

“No, what’s that?”

Noah gasped in mock terror. “When this is all over then we’re gonna have a good long reading night. Provided we survive.”

Saracen hefted himself off the couch and took his cup of hot chocolate. “What are the chances, that if we give Corvo the amulet, she can hop over into the fairy-dimension and we could go home happily?”

Dexter snorted. “What do you think? Have we ever had it that easy? I bet there are at least four catches to this.”

“The Otherworld is not only full of Fairies but also witches, demons, ghosts, monsters and every garish creature of your worst nightmares”, Noah explained. “Should Mila open a portal it would be two-way.”

“There you go”, Dexter remarked tiredly.

Lagrima leaped up, giving the men a start. “I know what she needs Rue for!” the girl exclaimed with an excited and proud laugh. “If a soul passes over, the walls between the dimensions have to become thinner or disappear entirely and by using the amulet, Mila could force the portal to remain open.”

Saracen stared. His expression was that of a man who was completely done. “Again with the human sacrifice?” he asked exasperated.

“No, it's a good theory”, Noah agreed with a determined nod, ignoring Saracen's shocked face. “Technically, she could use any mage or non-mage but I assume, the more powerful a sorcerer is, the more effective.”

“ _This_ I'm taking as a compliment”, Saracen declared, slightly piqued. “But what about the other magical artefacts she has been collecting? Was she just trying to get lucky?”

Dexter shook his head. “No, I think she knew exactly where to find the amulet. But I imagine holding open a portal requires massive amounts of energy. Corvo needs to drain the magic from the items and feed it into the portal to keep it open long enough for whatever she wants to do.”

Noah nodded sombrely. “And I have even worse news. Looking back I probably should have led with that … Anyway. You all know Halloween, right?”

A collective of nods. 

“It used to be called Samhain and is sometimes still referred to as such. It’s one of the four seasonal feasts where the wall between the dimensions become thinner or vanish entirely.”

“So during those nights creatures from other dimensions can slip through to our world”, Dexter concluded. “And humans can cross over into the Otherworld?”

Noah shook his head. “I’m not sure. I’m working with myths here after all. You’re the professionals. Someone might attempt it, though. But the walls are too strong for people to travel through. A soul is something else, it’s probably lighter and less physical. Corvo would have to wait until Samhain or-” Noah suddenly stopped.

“Or what?” Lagrima prompted.

“Beltene. She could try it on Beltene. It’s the only other seasonal feast where the walls vanish completely and even a person made of flesh might walk to the other side.”

“Ok. When is Beltene?”

“In two days’s time.”

**ooOoOoo**

“ _What?!_ ” Ghastly almost shouted into the phone. The Grandmage was currently heading back to his office in the Sanctuary. His steps echoed off the walls of the corridor as he picked up speed. “Dexter, please, tell me you're joking”, he pleaded.

“I wish I could, Ghastly. Believe me, I wouldn't have called again, were I not absolutely sure.”

The tailor groaned. “My problems just became insignificant compared to what you two have uncovered. Hang in there, I will see to it that you get back-up.”

Dexter closed his eyes, relieved. “Thank you”, he sighed.

“What's the situation? How much time do I have?”

“Not much, I fear. Currently, guards are only stationed outside the hotel, making sure we are staying put. Lagrima has drawn up a powerful energy shield, so we should be safe for the moment”, Dexter said. “But Corvo needs that amulet badly and will make a move soon. That woman is ruthless and stops before nothing and nobody to get what she wants.”

Ghastly picked up on the minor changes in Dexter's voice. He had known him for centuries and learned to read him without Vex having to voice his thoughts. The fact that his tone had openly shown fear, put him on edge. “Before I forget. The girl, Lagrima? I looked into her like you asked me to and the Italian Sanctuary just confirmed that she is indeed contracted with them as a Detective.”

Dexter smiled, some of the weight easing off his chest. “Good news are always welcome.”

“Just stay alive until we get there. Where exactly are you anyway?”

When Dexter relayed the information, Ghastly was silent for a moment. “Hello? Ghastly? You still there?”

Ghastly sounded apologetic. “Yes. It’s just … we can't get a hold of Fletcher. He and Val had a row and now he is sulking and nowhere to be found. I'm doing my best here.”

“You telling me I get to die because our only teleporter is _sulking_?! Look, just find a way to get out here or all you’re going to have to do is clean up a lot of messes.”

“I’ve got an idea. Hang on a little longer. Are you safe for the moment at that hotel?”

“Yes, I think so. Noah is happy to help and it was him who found out about the amulet and Corvo’s plans. Bright lad. Would have taken us days to figure all of this out.”

“Unusual name for a mage.”

Dexter hesitated. “That’s because he’s not a sorcerer.”

“You know what, I don’t even want to know. Just keep him safe as well or else the paperwork on my desk will never be done.”

“Will do. Just hurry up, Ghastly.”

Grandmage Bespoke stared at the beeping phone in his hand and sighed. Why did he have to accept this stupid job? Being a tailor was what he was cut out for. Ghastly smiled at his joke. Nothing he could do about this now. Until Val and Fletcher had talked it out and would resurface, it was on him to get to his friends in time.

He rounded a corner and stepped into the narrow grew corridor leading to his office. Nobody was to be seen.

“ERSKINE!” Ghastly shouted and manipulated the air to ripple through the entire Sanctuary. He had no idea where his fellow Elder was and hoped to find him more quickly like that. “GRANDMAGE'S OFFICE! NOW!”

The door next to Ghastly's office opened and Ravel stumbled out, hands covering his ears. His face was crunched up in pain.

“Could've knocked”, he groaned.

“Tell Madam Mist she is in charge and supposed to deal with this damn Zombie-outbreak. Then call Skulduggery and tell him to get his bony ass here in ten minutes. Val is supposed to get a hold of Fletcher. We need him.”

“What’s happening?” Erskine asked but whipped out his phone all the same, starting to press buttons.

“Dexter and Saracen are in trouble. I'll explain on the way.”

“Are we talking National? I mean – oh, Skul. Ghastly wants you here on the double. Bring weapons, we’re going to brawl. No, Val needs to get to Fletcher.”

Ghastly gave a mirthless laugh. “Keep dreaming. We don't stop this, the world will end – probably.” He turned and began hastening down the corridor.

“Right. See you in ten.” Erskine hung up. “I’m going to find Mist”, he called after his friend. “Always with the end of the world. How about a picnic for a change?” he sighed.

Ghastly dialled a number on his phone, hoping, imploring the man to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Anton, I need your help.”


	11. Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mila's planning awful things again.

Mila Corvo had left the restoration of order and discipline to Yedra and had retired to the peace and quiet of her office. She needed to recap the last few hours and decide on her next moves. Rising from the chair, she began tidying up her desk; it helped her free her mind of irrelevant thoughts and focus on what was important. One question in particular popped in her mind.

_How the hell could she have underestimated Rue and Vex?_

They were Dead Men and famous for their stubbornness and recklessness. Vex had killed two of her men: one in cold blood and the other she had been forced to discipline and execute as an example. Failures were not to be tolerated. 

While Mila had expected Vex to blunder right into the trap she had laid, it had come as a nasty surprise that her soldiers had been unable to apprehend him before he did any harm. Unfortunately, Vex had been a step ahead the entire time, the stolen radio having given him the advantage of predicting their every move. Clever. 

Perhaps it had been a mistake to capture Rue; it equalled a declaration of war to touch a member of the Dead Men. He had endured her strongest poisons and prevailed. Others had lost their minds from the sheer agony, yet the mage had still spat in her face defiantly. 

Corvo couldn't help but being impressed. If this was what two of them were able to do, she wondered what the suicide squad united was capable of.

But there was someone else she had underestimated. Lagrima, her old friend. Already two weeks ago, Corvo's spies had reported the girl to be snooping around town, trying to keep under the radar. At first, Mila had been on edge but when Lagrima had not made a move, she had relaxed. After all, the girl was not reckless and avoided taking risks in situations she knew she would lose. Lagrima acted when she was sure it was justified.

_A loner_ , Mila thought. _That's what she has always been. Insecure on the inside but carrying a tough demeanour on the outside._

Lagrima had been four when she had found a home with Corvo. It had been the ginger to teach her writing and reading, as well as magic. The afternoons they had spent in the sun-bathed library of the big Italian estate together had been filled with laughter.

But those days were gone, long lost in the past!

Corvo irately pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind. Lagrima had betrayed her, she had stomped on the kindness she had shown her and spat in her face. The fronts were clear now and she would not make the same mistakes again. Softness had no place in this world.

While it was a shame that Rue had managed to escape, there was nothing she could do to alter it. He would have been perfect for her endeavour but one could not have everything. The overall situation wouldn't look so bleak had it not been for the amulet's theft.

Practical solutions was what she needed instead of whining about what had happened.

Beltene occurred in two day's time. Until then she had to have reclaimed the amulet if she wanted to achieve absolute truth. Her time frame was closing rapidly and she had to admit that capturing Rue had indeed been a mistake.

A mistake she intended to make right again and there was only one hurdle that separated her from her prize: giving the fact that only three mages had managed to take out or incapacitate most of her soldiers, she needed more men. But where to find them?

Corvo suddenly stopped in her movements and a triumphant smile stretched across her face.

“I shall present you with a force you cannot possibly fight”, she announced to the empty room.


	12. Dead Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dead Men finally arrive! Whoo! Battle's about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to keep track of so many characters, like, everybody gotta get a word in and you constantly count the Dead Men like Gandalf counts the dwarves XD

The morning and afternoon had progressed fast with the mages and Noah discarding plan after plan. Nothing they came up with was actionable and soon they had to acknowledge that they had to wait for outside help.

“I think we all need something to eat”, Noah finally announced and pushed up from the sofa. “Are sandwiches alright?”

“Sure”, Saracen said with a smile. “Need help?”

Noah shook his head and flattened his waistcoat which had begun to sport some wrinkles here and there. “You're my guests and therefore it is my duty to provide you with food and drink.” When he passed the window, however, something outside attracted his attention.

“Saracen? Something is happening out there.” He was joined almost immediately by the mages who had rushed to the window.

About thirty meters down the road, the ground had split open and revealed a massive hole in the earth. Cracks and crevices in the tar snaked away from the blackness of the abyss and a dustcloud hung over the area. Then the ground groaned again and a building grew out of the earth. Or rather the single components of a building: bricks piled on bricks, beams shot up, a façade drew itself up over the naked brickwork and wrapped around the building. Roof tiles layered themselves over the wooden structure and glass flowed into their respective frames. The three-floor building grew and set itself together until it finally came to a shuddering halt. Just above the main entrance – beautifully crafted wooden double doors – thick black old-fashioned letters were set against the lighter façade of the building.

_Midnight Hotel._

“You Dead Men sure love your dramatic entrances”, Lagrima remarked dryly but with a smile. This was the best back-up one could wish for. Dead Men meant ridiculously silly plans that would not work at all but somehow the situation always seemed to sort itself out. They hadn’t survived the War relying on luck alone. She followed Vex and Rue to the front door to welcome their friends.

Over at the _Midnight Hotel_ , the doors opened and five men filed out into the sun and onto the steps leading down to the split road. They made sure not to overstep the invisible border of the hotel's protective shield when they looked around.

“Anton, get that cloaking sphere working. We can’t have any more ordinary folks witness this mess” Ghastly ordered. “Erskine, see to it that Fletcher knows where to teleport to once Val finds him.”

Ravel swiped out his phone and started taking pictures of the main road as well as the surrounding houses and buildings. “Smile, Anton!”

“Get off!” Shudder grumbled and shoved at Erskine holding the phone in his face. He produced a round object from his pocket and turned the two halves of the Cloaking Sphere in different directions. Immediately, a bubble stretched over the hotel and across the street, swallowing every last bit of magical activity. “Ah, much better.”

“Look, it's Dexter and Saracen”, Skulduggery said and waved at his friends, who whooped at their arrival and waved back excitedly. The white-haired girl and the young man standing next to them didn't show as much joy, though. Pity, after such a spectacular entrée.

The reason for Noah's lack of any reaction whatsoever was easy to explain. To the receptionist, the arrival of the Dead Men looked a bit like this: 

a man with horrible scars running down his face and the build of a pro boxer was heavily armed with a _sword?_ and … well, nothing else apart from his brawn.

The man next to him had taken out a phone and was snapping panorama pictures of the town while also goofing around with his friend. Apart from a sword – what was it with these things? – he, too seemed to be unarmed.

The man the photographer had been teasing wore a nice suit, which in Noah's opinion was not what you would wear if you went to battle. He had a ball in his hand, turning the two halves in opposite directions which did exactly … nothing. Was it a crystal ball? Was the man a fortuneteller? Soothsayer?

Another man stepped out of the hotel and stretched as though he had just woken up from a nap. He stood next to the soothsayer and Noah could see the hilts of two swords peeking out over his shoulders. It must be a sorcerer thing to carry swords. He was the most casual dressed out of the five men, sporting jeans and a t-shirt. Nothing you would wear to a battle!

It was the last man, however, who claimed Noah's attention. Sharply dressed in a suit, the man had sauntered down the steps, with two revolvers – finally a real weapon! – at his hips in a weirdly awesome crossover between western and dandy. The most intriguing thing about the man was not the hat which was set at a rakish angle on his head – it was the head it was on. The man wore a skull-mask!

And the most frustrating point on Noah's list of why he was more than a little worried about the newcomers: it was only five of them. “That’s the back-up?”

Lagrima heard his scepticism and put a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. They’re the best of the best. I never thought I’d see the Dead Men united and ready for battle. Just two days ago Vex sneaked passed twenty guards to save Rue who underwent hours of torture without going mad. And that was just two of them. Trust me. Together they’re unbeatable.”

“If you say so.” Noah still didn’t sound too sure. He watched as the newcomers walked down the three steps from the hotel to the street, only to find themselves confronted with Spencer and his gang. Three of the Dead Men circled the threat, chatting happily amongst themselves, leaving the man with the two swords and the soothsayer behind to fight seven men on their own. Noah blinked. They wouldn’t …?

“Hey Saracen! Dexter! I hear you made a new enemy and now we got to save your asses”, Erskine called up at them from outside the invisible energy field with a smirk.

“Shut it, Erskine!” Saracen turned to Lagrima. “Let them in.”

The Dead Men hugged and then the newcomers introduced themselves to Lagrima. Noah on the other hand had positioned himself a little to the side in order to let it all sink in. More mages. He took a deep breath. Everything was fine, he was fine, this was fine. Noah told himself that they were just people with a special skill-set but he sensed something else about them. The same danger he knew from Rue and Vex. They might be laughing and joking now but he was sure they wouldn’t hesitate to kill for what they believed in. Noah didn’t envy their enemies one bit and hoped he never found himself anywhere else than on their side.

Larrikin sauntered through the door and nodded to his friends. “All done. The guards are safely locked into the Midnight Hotel, awaiting proper arrest by Sanctuary officials. I let you guys do that later.” He noticed Noah and approached him with a broad smile. “Lovely to see a fellow ginger! I’m Larrikin.”

“Noah”, Noah said lamely and shook his hand. He liked Larrikin immediately. He had a sunny side that he loved to show and a friendly smile, Noah needed to see after all this death and torture.

Larrikin pointed over his shoulder to a man with black hair in a ponytail and grim features. “That brooding man is Anton. But don’t worry, he looks much meaner than he actually is.” He leaned down and whispered. “Anton is a real softie so don’t let him scare you.”

“I heard that, Larrikin. You can’t go around spoiling my reputation. People might think I’m amicable”, Anton grumbled, suddenly materialising next to Larrikin. His face softened when he saw Noah’s tense expression. He stretched out his hand. “Call me Anton.”

“Noah.”

“Nice hotel you have here”, Anton said with a glance over the lobby. “Love the bookcases.”

“Thanks.” Noah felt pride that a mage would like his hotel and especially his books. He beamed, the awkwardness of the situation and the danger forgotten for the moment.

“Noah!” Saracen called from the circle of couches and armchairs, waving the receptionist over to the little group of mages. When Noah approached, a little nervous, Saracen smiled at him. “I see you’ve already introduced yourself to Larrikin and Anton. Quite courageous of you to pick the most scary-looking out of us to start a conversation with.”

“Not his fault that he has taste”, Larrikin said with a little shrug and a wink at Anton who stoically ignored him.

Dexter rolled his eyes and pointed at Ghastly. “That’s – theoretically at least – our boss, Ghastly Bespoke. He is Grand Mage and runs the Irish Sanctuary which is basically a magical government. Ghastly is also our tailor. Makes those fetch outfits that we wear.”

_Theoretically?_ Noah thought as he shook Ghastly’s hand, trying not to stare at the horrible scars running down his face. Nobody else had commented on them, not even Lagrima so he probably shouldn’t mention them either. He didn’t think he was ready for another tragic backstory full of violence and torture.

“Theoretically?” Ghastly asked and quirked an eyebrow. “Excuse you, Vex, but I'm the highest ranking mage in all of Ireland. A little more respect. I could have you arrested at any time.”

“Sure you could.” Dexter only gave an amused grin that led Noah to believe that Vex could get away with breaking quite a few laws without getting more than a tired sigh from Ghastly. Somehow it felt as though the entire group liked to bend the rules to breaking point.

“Well, I'm your first lieutenant and I plan most of our missions. So that makes me the boss”, the man in the fancy suit chimed in and only now Noah registered that his face was not covered by a mask at all. It was a skull. In fact, his whole body was just bones. The skeleton stretched out his hand. “Nice to meet you Noah, I’m Skulduggery Pleasant. Please don’t faint. Already had that one. Get creative.”

Noah stared but then his manners kicked in and he smiled, albeit a bit forced. Skulduggery’s jaw moved but there were no expressions. It was just weird. “Ah, well, I guess there are plenty skeletons in the magical world. It’s just the first time I’ve seen one. Sorry if my staring was rude.”

Skulduggery cocked his head to the side. “There is only one like me out there which makes me quite proud, actually. But the sentiment is appreciated. I like you, Noah.”

“And that’s Erskine Ravel. He is also – theoretically – our boss”, Saracen said and pointed at the last man. The one with the most beautiful eyes Noah had ever seen.

Skulduggery clapped his hands and folded his slim frame into one of the free armchairs. “Talking about missions and plans. I want to hear the whole story of how you’ve uncovered someone who wants to destroy the world. Usually, that’s my speciality so I’m feeling right at home. A shame Valkyrie couldn’t make it.”

**ooOoOoo**

Mila looked up when she heard footsteps approach. She was almost done with her new army, only a few more runes left. Sweat pearled on her brow but as soon as she had drawn the runes her magic wasn’t used any longer. Mila got back to work when she saw who was walking towards her. Drawn looked a bit distressed which was unusual for him. Rarely anything got him to change that indifferent expression of his.

“Mila, it’s the Dead Men. They’re _all_ here now!”

Mila wasn’t surprised. She didn’t think there would be a response so fast but the Dead Men were different after all. “It doesn’t matter. They won’t be able to hold out in there forever. Not with my runes and not with those puppets. The Dead Men are too righteous and noble to let this pass. They will want to face me head-on.”

“We shouldn’t underestimate them.”

Mila heard the accusation. Yes, she had underestimated Rue and Vex but now she knew what she had to look out for. She would exploit their weaknesses and there was nothing they could do to stop her. “Capturing Rue was a mistake. I see that now but I intend to make it right. When we are prepared for them, we can take the Dead Men or at least keep them busy long enough for me to take the shield down and grab the amulet. I’ve worked too hard to let a bunch of vigilantes stop me.”

Drawn nodded and with a last glance at the puppets he turned and walked away.

**ooOoOoo**

“That’s the plan?” Erskine rubbed his temples as if to fight an oncoming headache. “Stay put and defend the hotel with our lives? You realise how stupid this sounds? She could just dismantle the shield and burn the whole building to the ground.”

“I’d prefer the hotel to remain in one piece”, Noah chimed in. “You know, living here and stuff. Wouldn’t it be better for us – or rather just you – to meet Corvo out there, nowhere near the amulet?”

Ghastly nodded. “Noah is right. We could sit out a siege but I’d rather not. If she manages to get us cornered in here we are done for. I want the freedom to fall back on other plans, improvise. In here our chances are limited.”

Skulduggery didn’t say anything. Was he pouting? It was so difficult to tell without being able to read facial expressions.

“Mila has three incredibly strong people at her side. First, Yedra. She is a mercenary, always looking out for what is best for herself. She already helped Rue escape. We don’t know which side she is truly on”, Lagrima said with a frown.

“Let’s just assume we are the only ones on our side right now”, Larrikin offered. “Who else does she have that we have to look out for?”

“Leontion Drawn is kind of a water-mage. Not really an Elemental because he couldn’t light a match if his life depended on it. But he controls water in its three aggregate stages. Everything that contains water. Blood. Tears. Sweat. He is extremely dangerous but he has to get very close in order to do anything with your blood.”

“I’ve never heard of such an adept power”, Anton mused and the others shook their heads. Neither had they.

“Lastly”, Lagrima continued, “Ciardha. A necromancer whose whole body is made of darkness and shadows. I haven’t figured out how to kill her because her shadows absorb any magical or non-magical attack.”

“What about Corvo herself? What’s her power?” Ghastly asked.

Lagrima hesitated for a moment. “Mila uses ink in many different forms. She has a similar ability to China Sorrows and uses her runes to poison, control and manipulate. If she wants, she can summon ink figures with a single rune to fight for or protect her. She is also the only one who could dismantle the energy shield with a single rune, which is why I’ve linked it to myself to immediately know if something’s wrong.”

“She poisons with ink”, Larrikin repeated, incredulous. He noticed the look that passed between Saracen and Lagrima. He bit his lip. “I see. I’m sorry.”

“Just hope she never captures you. It’s no fun”, Saracen tried to joke weakly but everyone could hear the fear and pain in his voice. Dexter slipped his arm around his husband’s waist.

“So we’ve established that we meet her head-on. Any specifics? Tactics? Or are we gonna do our usual thing?” Skulduggery asked into the awkward silence. “Improvise based on what Corvo comes up with?”

“Hey Anton! Any chance that inside the Midnight Hotel there are some of your guests willing to lend a hand?” Dexter asked hopefully. According to him, they really could use all the help they could get.

Shudder shook his head. “Apart from Larrikin who showed up uninvited two days ago, only two guests have checked in yesterday. I'm afraid they headed out very early today. I left them a note.”

“A note? Saying what? _'Sorry for leaving you in the middle of nowhere while I took the hotel for a walk'?”_

“As far as I recall it, I had to come save your ass”, Anton replied calmly.

Dexter nodded. “And I'm very grateful for that.”

Saracen all but sidled behind Larrikin, a grin on his face. “You spending time at Anton’s? How’s it going with melting his heart? Any luck?” he whispered in his ear.

Larrikin snapped his head around. He had paled considerably. “How-?

Saracen smirked, keeping his voice low. “I know things, Larrikin. That is so cute!”

The ginger turned to tower over Saracen. “Let me clear something up for you. You breathe about this to anyone and you won’t have to worry about Corvo coming for your ass because I’ll be the one to kill you.”

Saracen was not intimidated and smirked. “If you want it to be kept secret you shouldn’t be so obvious.”

“Who wants to keep what a secret?” Anton asked, suddenly appearing behind Larrikin. Saracen narrowed his eyes as Larrikin didn’t even flinch at his sudden appearing. Usually Larrikin was hopelessly jittery and coy around Anton but now he was confident. Too confident.

“Saracen’s knowing things again. Things about my love life apparently”, Larrikin said too calmly for Saracen’s taste. There was something up and he didn’t know what. He hated not knowing!

Anton raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh? Are you having an affair? Do I have to worry, darling?”

Saracen’s jaw dropped and turned to Dexter who looked equally shocked. Only now did he notice Anton’s hand on Larrikin’s waist. “What?! You’re … when did this happen? And wait, did you just call Larrikin _‘darling’_? What the hell did you do to Anton?”

Larrikin smirked and gave Anton a peck on the cheek (and lived!). “Wouldn’t you like to know, Saracen.” When he looked around, Noah was the only other person who looked slightly terrified. Not even Lagrima seem too surprised by this turn of events. To her all of the Dead Men were nuts anyway. Why would she care that the sunny one would date the brooding one?

Dexter grinned. “Oh you will have to tell me everything, Anton. What’s it like dating a ray of sunshine? Especially for a grumpy old man like you?”

“Jealous, Vex?” Anton playfully tightened his grip on Larrikin who laughed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t get physical over me or I’ll have to hook up with Saracen.”

Before Dexter could retort, Ghastly called from the window. “Guys, something’s happening out there. More soldiers have arrived and are lining up out there. I believe we were too slow in taking the fight to Corvo.”

Anton and Larrikin’s love life was forgotten and everyone started to the windows facing the street. There it had become more lively. About fifteen soldiers had arrived, most likely mages and all of them were armed to the teeth. But it wasn’t the soldiers that rendered the besieged speechless.

“Why would she do this?” Erskine whispered. Nobody answered.

When Dexter glanced outside again, his stomach flipped uncomfortably. They stood silent, like statues, patiently awaiting orders. Bluish-purplish runes ran down on both sides of their necks and disappeared beneath their collars. Fifteen blank, empty faces stared at them. None was older than eighteen.

Corvo was strolling confidently through the rows of fighters. When she noticed them standing at the window, she gave them a cold smile and a wink. Then she crouched down just a foot from where the energy shield touched the ground and started drawing runes on the tar.

“She is taking the shield down!” Lagrima shouted, pulling everyone from their thoughts. She drew a knife and cut through a small symbol on the back of her hand before she could feel the onslaught of Mila’s attack on the shield. “We have to fortify the barrier or we won’t have a chance at defending anything.”

Saracen's expression changed from surprise to determination in a matter of seconds. “Lagrima, it’s your shield. It’s gonna be your job to make sure it holds. Add defensive layers. Every symbol you can think of. Go! If they manage to get in here, we’re done for.”

The girl clenched her teeth and nodded. “Aye, Sir. I need at least two people to help me with different sigils.”

Larrikin and Erskine ran to the reception desk and armed themselves with sharpies. 

Noah was clueless as to how the situation could have spiralled out of control the way it had. Around him the mages were bustling and hastening, dragging bags and equipment into the lobby, preparing themselves to defend the hotel. They had gone into full battle-mode already, not minding Noah standing silently and all too stiffly next to the window. Thoughts were swirling inside his head like autumn leaves on a windy day and he realised he was scared.

“Noah?”

It took the receptionist a few seconds to gather himself and focus on the person stooping over him.  
Dexter was grabbing his shoulder, looking concerned. “Noah, go upstairs and find a spot to hide. We have it covered.”

Noah blinked. “They …”

“You have my word that we will not hurt them. Our main objective is to strengthen the energy shield and to keep them out.”

“I – how could she?”, Noah finally whispered.

“Look, I know you're upset. She is breaking a lot of laws and she will be held responsible for her actions but right now, we need to make sure we stay alive long enough to make her pay.”

“How could she use teenagers?! She mind-controls ordinary, non-magical teenagers and will order them to kill! I know every single one of those kids.”

The mage grabbed Noah's shoulder. “Listen to me. Those kids have no idea what is happening to them. We will work out a way to break the connection and when they wake up they will wonder how they came to be here. They won't remember a thing and none of use are willing to hurt them.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very.”

“Vex! Get a move on! We need you here. Mila is good enough to have the sigils fade as we retrace them. We have to keep at it!” Lagrima shouted across the lobby. She was in the process of drawing a big sigil on the wall just next to the reception desk. Using a black sharpie. Erskine and Larrikin followed suit and started drawing their own protective glyphs on the carpet or walls. Nobody dared to touch the bookshelves, though. They had a hunch that despite the danger lurking outside, Noah would be the bigger problem if anyone dared to smear sharpie on his beloved books.

Noah stared.

“Sorry about the wall”, Vex smiled apologetically. “We will pay for it, of course. Go and hide.” He didn’t wait for Noah to do as he said and walked briskly to the couches where Ghastly and Skulduggery were already going over their options.

“Anton, replace Lagrima at her sigil. We need her expertise on this one”, Skulduggery said and Anton nodded but was held back by a hand on his arm.

“I can do that”, Noah said with new determination in his eyes. “I can trace the sigil while you do your battle stuff and discuss tactics.”

“Go.”

“How exactly does the control work?” Ghastly wanted to know once Lagrima had joined them.

“Mila uses her runes to put a spell on them. It’s quite strong on mages but there are limits. She can’t order them to kill themselves for example. Their own magic will rebel against the control. But ordinary teenagers? I have no idea what they are capable of.”

“We have to go out there. We can’t let anything happen to those kids”, Ghastly said. “I know it’s a trap and she is playing our weaknesses”, he added when he saw Lagrima’s expression. “But we don’t have a choice.”

“I heard somebody wants to go outside”, Saracen called from across the lobby where he had taken it upon himself to keep an eye on things outside. “What I can see from here is that Corvo is still working on the shield but she looks drained. Pale. With a bit of luck she won’t be able to conjure her ink figures. Easiest way to remove the spell is to take Corvo down but for that we would have to go through the teens first and I really don’t want to do that. So what’s the plan?”

“Working on that!” Skulduggery called back.

Lagrima cleared her throat. “I have a suggestion but you probably won't like it. I’ll have to show you, though, otherwise you won’t be able to picture it. And I want another Sanctuary official to second it because if it goes wrong I don’t want to be blamed all on my own.”

“We’d never blame a person like that”, Ghastly smiled. “But I like your thinking. Is it a crazy idea?”

“Definitely.” Lagrima quickly made her way over to her bag and began to rummage through it.

Suddenly, Larrikin laughed, still re-drawing the fading glyph on the carpet.

“What’s so funny?” Anton wanted to know.

“I just never thought I’d ever find myself in a situation where I’d be drawing for my life.”

Despite the bleak situation, the Dead Men laughed, earning concerned looks from both Lagrima and Noah.

Lagrima had found whatever she had been looking for and carried a bag back to the couches where she unzipped it and upended it. Pieces of metal that looked like they could belong to a rifle fell out and tumbled across the sofa. Quickly, the girl moved to assemble the weapon. “So, as to my idea. I'm in the possession of a, let's call it, a magic-sensitive weapon and I'm very good with it. My plan is to shoot the hostages with a magical bullet charged with the slightest bit of electricity to kind of shock them out of their trance.”

The men gaped at her, speechless.

Skulduggery was the first to find his words. “You want to shoot them? Sorry, but a mercy killing is not what we are aiming for … no pun intended.”

Lagrima shook her head. “No, you don't understand. This weapon does not require real bullets made of metal like your revolvers do. It only works with magic. Specifically, it fires a bullet made of the power of the mage handling it. With me, for example, the bullets consist of electricity because my Adept-power is electricity.”

“But a bullet of this calibre would still kill them”, Ghastly pointed out. Impressed, he had watched the girl assemble the rifle in less than thirty seconds.

“Not if I don't want it. As I said, the weapon is magic-sensitive. It is up to me to decide how powerful each bullet becomes by using more or less magic. Let me show you.” Lagrima took the rifle, set it against her shoulder and aimed it at Skulduggery who involuntarily stepped back. Before he could react, the white-haired had pulled the trigger and a small ball of frizzling electricity thudded against his cheekbone and narrow jagged bluish threads darted over his skull, disintegrating after a few seconds.

“Ouch.” Skulduggery raised his hand to his skul and gingerly touched his jaw and cheekbones. “Wow, that … didn't hurt much. It was more the shock of suddenly being shot at than actual pain. Tingly, though.”

With a grin, Lagrima lowered the rifle. “What do you say?”

Skulduggery inclined his head. “You're one crazy girl, you know that? Anyway, let's do this. Lagrima, find yourself a sniper's position inside the hotel. Wait for my signal. Keep an eye out for Corvo as well; if she tries to give us the slip, let us know. Saracen, Dexter, you're without any weapons but your fists and tiny knives. Your job will be to both protect the hotel and bring the children in here.”

The mages nodded.

“Noah, can you take care of fifteen hopefully unconscious teenagers?”

“I … I guess so”, Noah stuttered, not having expected to be considered valuable or magic-y enough to be helping in the plan. He half-turned away from the wall but always keeping an eye on the sigil.

“Whatever you do, don't let them leave your hotel, understood?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds easy. Almost too easy if you ask me. Your plans never work out that well”, Erskine said.

The skeleton huffed, offended. “My plans are perfectly workable! Any questions?”

“How are we supposed to walk in and out of our own energy shield if I may ask?” Dexter wanted to know. “I mean, out is no problem but getting back inside with another person might be impossible.

“There is a way”, Saracen said carefully. “It’s risky, though.”

“What were you thinking of?”

“We can link the shield to ourselves, taking full control over it like Lagrima did.”

Dexter grimaced. “This would also mean, that we would have to support the shield with our magic. If we are forced to fight outside we won’t be able to call on our powers or else the energy will be drained from the shield. It also means, that if we die, the whole game is over.”

“There is nothing else we can do.”

“I hate out odds.”

Skulduggery clapped his hands. “Grand. Anything else?”

Lagrima held up her hand. “Uh, yeah. I'm supposed to wait for your signal. What signal?”

“You'll know it when you see it.”

The girl raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She grabbed her rifle and hurried towards the stairs to find a room on the first floor which faced both the front and one side of the hotel. A balcony would be preferable.

When she finally set up her sniper's nest on a balcony which thankfully had bars so she could shoot in a crouched position, she was able see the Dead Men get into position on the street below. Instead of taking Corvo between them and making her fight on two fronts, they had flocked together and form a meagre line of five men standing in the middle of the road. Imposing men but still only five. Vex and Rue were a bit further off to the side, closer to the hotel but also closer to the menacing formation of the enemy forces; waiting for the first teen to fall. This was beyond mad. This was suicide! And probably right up the Dead Men's street.

“They are all crazy”, Lagrima mumbled. Suddenly, she snickered. She was about to shoot a bunch of children with magical bullets made of electricity to save them. That made her no less crazy. Lagrima adjusted the position of the butt of the rifle against her shoulder and pressed her cheek against the cold metal of the weapon. Peeking through the scope, she swivelled until she had the Dead Men in her sights. So far they were simply standing in the street, staring down the overwhelming numbers of the enemy. She could see that Mila had retreated behind her soldiers and was watching from a safe distance.

“The enemy tries to get behind us. There are already several armed subjects closing in on us from this alley and that building”, Erskine informed his friends calmly, pointing in the respective directions.

Skulduggery nodded. “Right. Anton, take care of those approaching from the alley. I will deal with the soldiers on the roof. The rest of you, just … attack frontally.” The detective began running towards the indicated building and manipulate the air beneath him to jump straight to the roof.

“I guess, we should get going”, Larrikin said and drew his swords. Ghastly nodded, mimicking the motion.

Mila Corvo had patiently observed her adversary and come up with dozens of plans which she had all but one discarded. If she wanted to achieve her goal, she was forced to use her soldiers as a decoy and sneak to the rim of the energy shield again and finally take it down. There was nobody guarding the hotel at the moment and Lagrima and that mortal alone had no way of fortifying the shield on their own. Besides, the girl had taken a sniper's position on one of the balconies, which left the mortal. And he stood no chance against a sorceress. However, Lagrima surely had orders to inform the Dead Men if she left the scene. Try as they might, they would not be able to follow her, not with a small army of ferocious teens attempting to rip their throats out.

“Take them head-on! Don't let them through! Don't be fooled by their number! Form a firing line behind the kids!” Corvo ordered courtly, watching Bespoke and Ravel advance with swords drawn. “If they want to reach us, they have to go through them!”

The ginger pulled a cellphone from her pocket and dialled a number.

“Yes?”

“Yedra, I want you here with me as my personal bodyguard. Ciardha and Drawn are to head to the back of the building and destroy the energy shield. It shouldn’t take them long. The Mortal is alone and unprotected. Bring the amulet to a safe location and contact me immediately. Take the Mortal as well, we might be needing him.”

“Roger that. How is the situation right now?”

Corvo smiled. “Nothing to worry about. I have it all under control. Quite literally.” Finishing the call, she waved her hand and the teenagers started walking. As opposed to common belief, people controlled by another person didn't move with the agility of brain-dead zombies. Their movements were fluid and they were equipped with a strong natural sense of self-preservation allowing them to evade attacks, duck, sprint or jump. In other words, their bodies moved on their own while the mind was set on destroying the enemy.

Teens and young adults up to the age of seventeen possessed the most agile bodies. Adult men or women would be slightly stiffer in their movements due to their age. This had been the reason for her to use children and push sticks, knives and baseball bats into their hands – oh, and obviously for the psychological effect: after all, who could hurt a kid, albeit armed?


	13. Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fight, fight, fight. Nothing more than fighting in this chapter.

Skulduggery landed on the roof, spotting his adversaries immediately. Three armed men in combat gear, who brought up their rifles and fired at the skeleton and to Skulduggery's surprise, they were not spooked at all when faced with a walking dead. Were they that unquestioning? Or was it rather …

Skulduggery stretched out his hand, palm facing forward and manipulated the air, ordering the molecules to shift and overlap until he had a sturdy air shield catching the bullets. All this had happened in a split-second. He drew one of his revolvers and fired.

The bullets whizzed past the first man, who had somehow managed to avoid being hit and were swallowed by the shadows the second one had commanded. So Skulduggery's guess had been correct. These soldiers were mages.

Lagrima waited while trying to keep track of Pleasant in her scope. Every one of his moves could be the signal. Him firing his revolver? Him starting to run and thus opening the battle? Him roasting a soldier? The continuous stream of fire which completely missed its target? Which one was it? Perhaps he had forgotten about her?

“Fuck this, he is not my boss”, Lagrima grumbled and swivelled on the balls of her feet, adjusting the rifle once more.

Her first target was an about sixteen year old girl who looked like she could take it if the mage misjudged the power of the first bullet. She had muscled legs and arms and wore the broad trademark shoulders of a swimmer. Her black pony-tail whipped behind her as she went to stab Bespoke, who evaded her attack and pushed the knife aside with his sword. The swimmer moved in again, feinted low with the hand holding the knife and delivered a vicious round-house kick to Bespoke’s stomach. The tailor staggered back, bringing his sword up to block a quick succession of stabs and jabs. These kids could fight!

Lagrima closed her eyes for a moment and concentrated. The weapon in her hand was charged. All she had to do was select a portion of her magic, aim and pull the trigger. Perhaps she had overestimated herself; shooting adult men and women was different. There she was absolutely certain how to dip the bullets but children had a different metabolism, everything was still in growth and was more easily damaged. Additionally, these were ordinary children with no traces of magic in their veins. The first shot would be a total risk. After she knew how the swimmer reacted, she could calculate and adjust the bullets for the other kids.

The girl snapped her eyes open on exhalation and pulled the trigger.

Saracen and Dexter saw the girl who had attacked Ghastly drop, her limbs going limp and she fell to her hands and knees. She shook her head as if to get rid of something. Quickly, the mages hastened over and while Saracen was covering him, Dexter helped the girl to her feet again and almost dragged her back inside the shield. Only then they checked whether it had worked.

The girl was pale and she looked as though she had just broken the surface of a dark pond and finally seen the light of the sun again. The runes on her neck were gone. Bewildered, she stared at Saracen and Dexter and immediately tried to get away from them. She felt tired and drowsy. Had they drugged her?!”

“Let go of me!”

Dexter removed his hand from her arm as though he had been burned and stepped back. “We won't hurt you. We are here to help.”

“Why am I holding a knife?” The girl asked in a panicked voice and let if clatter to the ground.

“Noah! Your responsibility!”

As soon as Noah appeared, the girl ran towards him. “Mr. O'Callaghan, what is going on?”

Dexter and Saracen left the swimmer in the receptionist's care and headed outside the shield again.  
Lagrima had watched the entire process of the bullet hitting and the girl being brought into the hotel safely. “Lagrima, as usual, fortune favours fools”, she muttered. “They don't even need to be unconscious. Shocking the spell off of them is more than enough.”

**ooOoOoo**

Larrikin cried out in pain as a boy kicked him in the leg and brought his baseball bat down on his ribs. The armoured t-shirt saved him from breaking anything and although the impact was cushioned, he still felt the pain radiating from his chest. Grinding his teeth, Larrikin endured the pain while inching backwards. He dove behind a car parked along the road, pressing his back against the cold metal. The frame rattled as the bullets riddled the vehicle but Larrikin could not care less. How was he supposed to deal with the teen? Could he risk delivering a punch to the temple in order to knock him out? It was just a kid! _Make up your mind quickly!_ Larrikin knew, he had fractions of a second to come to a decision before the kid would be rounding the car – and walk straight into the crossfire.

“Damn!”

Larrikin had already leaped up before he had finished cursing, oblivious to the bullets whizzing past him. Deflecting the bat aiming for his head with his arm, he grabbed the teen around his waist, pulling him close enough to prevent any further attacks. Larrikin turned and dragged the boy behind the car, taking them both to the ground. The youth kicked and writhed in his hold and Larrikin made a decision. Readjusting his hold, he brought his arm around and pressed it against the boy’s mouth, pinching his nose at the same time.

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,_ ’ Larrikin chanted in his head while the boy thrashed in his fight for oxygen. Only when he went limp in his arms, Larrikin carefully let go of him, immediately checking for vitals. Relieved, the Dead Man ascertained that the teen was still breathing. He was just unconscious.

Larrikin risked a peek over the hood of the car and noticed that the soldiers had not moved much. Instead of hunting each of the Dead Men down, they had remained in some sort of loose protective formation in front of Corvo. She was either being incredibly cautious or might be trying to give them the slip. Staying close to their boss, the soldiers were taking turns at firing at their enemies.

“Dexter!” The blond glanced around to determine from where the shout had come from and went to cross the battlefield in a crouched run when he spotted Larrikin behind the car.

“Take the kid.”

Dexter looked down at the unconscious boy. “What happened?”

“I had to take him down or else the soldiers would have blown him to pieces.”

Jaw tight, Vex carefully studied his surroundings. “Okay, I got this. Cover me.” Carefully, they made their way back to the hotel. Larrikin dancing around Vex and the boy, deflecting fireballs and bullets with his katanas. Only when Dexter had disappeared inside the energy shield Larrikin turned to throw himself back into the fray. A fist collided with his jaw and sent him stumbling back. Larrikin shook his head and took his fighting stance again, swords at the ready.

A man with cold eyes was taxing him. Energy flared in his palms. Larrikin smiled. This would be fun.

**ooOoOoo**

Child after child fell and was brought to the relative safety inside Noah’s hotel. Whenever Saracen and Dexter were busy, the girl would switch to shooting soldiers – with much more fatal bullets. However, the constant use of the magic-draining rifle put a toll on the girl, especially kill shots and she began to feel heavy and slow. This weapon had not been designed for combat, it served the purpose of eliminating one target and then for the assassin to disappear. Lagrima drew in a shaky breath and forced herself to focus. “Just six … Six more.”

Skulduggery had already fired all of his bullets and to his great dismay, just one out of the twelve had hit. To be fair, his adversaries had been formidable combatants and highly trained mages. The ones on the roof he had – with much skill and expertise – taken care of easily. From his position he was able to see Dexter and Saracen working relentlessly to save the children. Vex covered his husband while Saracen picked up kid after kid and more or less shoved them inside the energy shield where they were received by Noah who expertly guided them into the hotel.

_‘Curious, this man’_ , Skulduggery thought as he watched the determined expression on the hotelier’s face. _‘There will be much to discuss when this is all over. He seems like a truly remarkable person.’_

Ghastly, Erskine and Anton on the other hand, didn't fare so well. Even though only six, no five teens were left, they were under heavy fire. The two Elementals had conjured strong walls of air to keep the bullet-rain from tearing them to pieces and were apparently discussing their next moves. All the while, Anton had been picking up knives and hurled them at the soldiers. Hitting one or two but he didn’t even dent the formation. They needed a plan, and quick!

Skulduggery left his meagre cover in a house entrance and shielding himself, he zig-zagged over to where his friends cowered.

“We need another tactic!” Erskine shouted over the spluttering noise of rifle fire. “This is not working!”

“Pointing out the obvious won’t help”, Anton remarked dryly. “Where is Larrikin? We need him!”

Ghastly frowned. “Last I saw him he was taking down a group of mages near the hotel. I haven’t seen him since. Maybe we should-”

Saracen sprinted past. “I need cover!” he shouted, not waiting whether his order would be carried out but trusting his friends to have his back.

Erskine sprung into action without questioning and solidified the air around Saracen who picked up a young boy and took a bewildered girl by the hand. The Elemental extended the shield around them and accompanied the trio back to the hotel.

Overlooking the battle or rather the one-sided violence aimed at the Dead Men, Lagrima brought her cheek to the rifle again and pulled the trigger several times in a fast succession.

Anton Shudder raised his eyebrows in surprise as in the timespan of a second, the last two children who had decided to besiege him, fell to their knees, daggers and a stick tumbling to the ground. In the next second, three soldiers went to the ground screaming. Shudder had not seen them sneak up on him, having focused on the kids. He offered a thankful nod towards Lagrima and finally made good use of his axe as he covered the last meters towards the first soldiers. He knew he didn’t have to look behind him to know that his friends would take care of the kids.

Skulduggery and Ghastly were at his side, pushing solidified air before them to prevent being hit by any stray or not so stray bullets. Shadows lashed out at them and fireballs flew their way. Elegantly, the Dead Men evaded the attacks, pushing aside shades and deflecting fireballs with their swords.

It was rumoured that the Dead Men engaged in battle gracefully and fought astonishingly stylish, even though nobody was entirely sure how a brawl could ever be called stylish. However, if by stylish those people who had had the doubtful honour of witnessing the suicide squad in action meant jabbing at eyes, poking at ribs and using every dirty move known to mankind, then yes, the Dead Men should be awarded for the most stylishly delivered battles.

Anton was the first to land a swing with his axe, quickly followed by a ferocious kick to a soldier’s ribcage, knocking him into the man behind him, who consequently was forced to lower his gun. This was the moment when Skulduggery pushed against the air and knocked the soldier right over.  
To his right, Ghastly had breached the enemy line as well and was currently dealing fatal blows to the left and right. His sword was already stained with blood. Hopeless as it may seem, they still had a chance.

Suddenly, Saracen cried out and staggered, his knees buckling dangerously beneath him. Ravel immediately was at his side. “This is bad. Someone is attacking the hotel’s energy shield with far more force than anticipated”, he gasped. The mage stumbled on and released the children into the now endangered safety. Two more to go.

Lagrima fell back against the wall of the hotel, chest heaving. Pearls of sweat were running down her face and she felt like she had just crossed the finish line of a marathon. Staring up at the cloud-speckled sky, she let the rifle clatter to the tiles of the balcony and focused on breathing steadily. _‘No, no, no! Get up, Lagrima. You need to head out there and help them. You need to fight. But if I walk out in this condition, I will die within the first three minutes if not sooner. If I'm able to walk, that is.’_

Grabbing the ledge of the window above her head, the girl pulled herself to her feet, leaning with her back against the wall lest she fall to the floor again. Damn, she had overestimated herself. “Five minutes and some chocolate. That’s what I need”, she mumbled but then a frown creased her brow. What was that? Lagrima grasped the railing, knuckles turning white and leaned over it.

Rue and Vex were down! Someone was hitting the energy shield and it was taking its toll on the mages. But who? Mila was still rooted to the spot, safely hiding behind her forces while watching the skirmish. At her side, Lagrima could make out Yedra, standing with her arms crossed before her chest. The girl let her gaze wander over the chaos which was unfolding below on the street and a deep frown appeared on her face. Where was Ciardha? After a second screening of the people below, Lagrima was certain that neither Ciardha nor Drawn were among the fighters. That meant they were the ones attacking the shield!

Lagrima gripped the railing harder and sucked air into her lungs. Her dark gaze met Mila’s who had been watching her scan her surroundings. A sly, triumphant smile tugged at her lips as though she knew what the girl was thinking.

_‘She does’_ , Lagrima thought, drawing her brows together. _‘She knows exactly what I'm thinking and what my next moves will be.’_ Stepping back from the railing, she picked up her rifle and slowly retreated into the hotel, still a bit wobbly on her feet. _‘But there is nobody else to walk into her trap. Either I face Ciardha and Drawn and rip their focus away from the shield so Vex and Rue can fight or I don’t. Easy as that. Nobody will be calling me out on it if I don’t engage. Nobody would know I have been aware of the situation. But Mila knows I would never let someone get hurt because I haven’t reacted.’_ Lagrima opened the door leading into the corridor, trailing her fingers along the wall in case she would have to rely on it. Thoughts swirled through her mind as she made her way down the stairs. Slowly, she felt her strength return – agonizingly slowly.

_‘I'm no match for either one in my current state. Mila has taught me what to do in such a situation. When the outcome of a fight is clear and you will lose, don’t act. If you're the weaker opponent, walk away. Have I ever listened to that?’_

_‘Yes’_ , she answered herself. _‘When it was just me alone. Never when someone else’s life was on the line. How many times did she have to save me? Mila knows I'm cautious up to a degree that borders on cowardly when I'm acting alone, when there is nobody to look out for, nobody to protect. That is fine with me, call me a coward. Most of the time I'm, giving myself tough and cold on the outside when really I'm scared. Oh, I'm scared to death.’_

Lagrima reached the lobby and raised her eyebrows in surprise. About a dozen children were sitting on the couches and on the floor even, each with a steaming cup of hot chocolate or tea in their hands. The girl had expected more panic, chaos and terror instead of calm children staring at her fearfully.

“Mr. O’Callaghan! There is a strange woman with a weapon!”

Noah who had been standing at the small bar, making more tea and hot chocolate for the kids, immediately left his post, crossing the lobby in a few long strides. “Lagrima, are you okay? You look pale.”

Lagrima shook her head. “I'm completely drained, is all. Can I have some water and chocolate? Lots of chocolate, actually?”

Frowning, Noah nodded and hastened into the kitchen, only to emerge moments later, carrying several bars of chocolate and bottled water. Impressed he watched Lagrima gulp down the water in record time and take a huge bite out of a chocolate bar.

“Thanks”, Lagrima mumbled and handed Noah her rifle. “Take care of this for me. Don’t worry, there is no way you can accidentally fire it, it requires magic.”

The receptionist drew his brows together worriedly while he looked down at the weapon it his hand as if it might bite him any second. “You're not going to go outside, are you? Not in this condition; you need rest.” He witnessed her devour two entire bars of chocolate within half a minute.

“There is nobody else. The Dead Men are busy fighting soldiers. Rue and Vex are under an enormous strain from supporting the shield which is under heavy fire. I need to find the mages responsible for the attacks and distract them from the shield.”

“I may not know what powers those mages might have but at the moment, they have outclassed you. Forgive me for saying this but everyone outclasses you right now.”

Lagrima lifted an eyebrow and smiled weakly. “Well, you're not wrong.”

_Was she really going to do this? Stumbling into a fight she was poorly prepared for, a fight she would most definitely lose? Doing stupid things she was fantastic in. She could walk away, feint a break-down and leave the rest to the others. Nobody would blame her and yet – she couldn’t bring herself to._

“Ten minutes. That is all I ask. Please, Lagrima.”

“They don’t have ten minutes.”

“I can see that you're scared”, Noah tried another tactic, hoping to convince her not to go. “You're scared and exhausted. You will be walking to your death!”

“There is nobody else to help out.” Lagrima pulled at the straps which secured a pistol to her thigh, loosening the holster and finally taking it off entirely. She handed the holster with the weapon over to Noah. “Bullets will have no effect on Ciardha. Even less when she knows I’m coming.”

Before a staring Noah could stop the girl, she had turned and was heading towards the kitchen door, apparently planning to leave the hotel via the back entrance. _She was willingly walking into a trap? Were these mages made of sacrifice and utter loyalty?_ It was only when a black-haired boy waved his hand in front of Noah’s face, that he realized he had been focused on the closed kitchen door, hoping the girl would come back.

“Mr. O’Callaghan? Are you alright?”

“No”, the receptionist shook his head. There had to be something he could do to help. Besides watching the children. He had to tell someone. Where were Dexter and Saracen? “No, I'm not.”


	14. Lagrima

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fighting. More sacrifice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!!  
> Torture-ish things happening!

Larrikin was in trouble. The energythrower and his group of bat-wielding muscle-heads had managed to separate him from the others and were bearing down on him now. He had been forced to retreat into a smaller alley away from the main action. It had been a cul-de-sac. Obviously. A high wall rose up in front of him but he reckoned he could take it. In a swift motion he sheathed his katanas and manipulated the air mid-run. Larrikin was catapulted into the air and only then realised his mistake. Some of the soldiers had scaled the building to his right and were taking aim. He was completely defenceless.

A gust of air knocked him off his course and a blast of energy did the rest. Larrikin smacked into the façade of the shop to his left. All air was pressed out of his lungs, even though his protective clothing had absorbed the brunt of the impact. The energythrower didn’t waste any time and unleashed another blast at Larrikin who rolled over the ground, getting back on his feet, albeit a bit unsteady.

“I have to admit, I underestimated you. All that hatred you harbour is one hell of an amplifier”, Larrikin said and drew his katanas. He knew he was outnumbered, outmatched and outgunned. A small smirk played around his lips. Perfect odds for a Dead Man.

**ooOoOoo**

Mila Corvo let the smile become a malicious grin the second Lagrima had disappeared inside the hotel. Ciardha and Drawn would warmly welcome her former friend. With everyone else being occupied, there really was just Lagrima who could take care of the ones attacking the shield. 

However, this was unexpected. Why was the shield still so strong? She had taken care of the sigils from here. All there was left was to make the rudimentary energy crumble and Ciardha and Drawn were more than powerful enough to have it done within seconds. So why? Unless … 

Corvo scowled. “They have linked the shield to themselves”, she growled and pressed her phone to her ear again.

Erskine watched with big, horrified eyes as first Saracen’s hand bearing the warding sigil was shrouded in shadows which then shot up and covered his entire upper body. Finally, a scream ripped from his throat and he dropped to the ground.

“Get … the rest”, Saracen ground out between clenched teeth and waved in the vague direction of the last two children.

“Saracen-”

“GO!”

Ravel wrapped himself in air and hastened towards the last two kids. This was a nightmare. Saracen’s screams in his ear, Erskine ducked and dodged, bounding on. Five steps, four, three, two! The mage gripped one of the boys around the waist, hoisting him up over his shoulder and knelt down to grasp the other in a similar fashion. As fast as he dared he ran back towards his friend and the hotel.

“Saracen, the shield!”

The mage was panting heavily with his hand pressed over the one bearing the glyph. He was cowering between four dead soldiers, trying to use them as cover. Bullets and fire were whizzing by. Under the protection of a solid wall of air, Saracen pushed to his feet and leaned on Erskine. Together the men made their way towards the hotel.

Vex was on his knees. Grimacing, he fought down the wave of nausea that had come with a sudden drainage of his magic. Someone was trying to break the shield down – brutally. The sigil he had drawn onto the back of his hand burned and itched. His arm slowly became numb and cold, the icy tendrils spreading over his shoulder and down his chest. He screamed and doubled-over when the frost sapped through his clothing and cut deeply into his skin.

“Dexter!” Noah came running down the stairs and wrapped an arm around the blond. About a minute ago, Lagrima had slipped out of the hotel, still pale but having recovered enough to make sure she would last for a few minutes in a fight. “Dexter, what is happening? Please, tell me what to do!” Noah was near panicking. It was one thing to treat a mortally wounded man while he was unconscious but seeing Dexter being tortured by some supernatural force was more than he could bear to watch. The blond was shivering and the hot pain of the ice became almost unbearable. It felt as though he was being burned alive.

“Lagrima is on her way to track down the person attacking the barrier. They are responsible for – for … this. The shield I mean and -”

Dexter trembled and his face was a stony mask of pain. It was a surprise he had even processed what Noah had just told him. _“What?!”_

“I tried to stop her but she - “

“This is surely a trap! Dammit! Help … me up!” Another scream tore from Dexter’s throat and it took a few moments until he had himself back under control. At least for now.

Noah lowered his head. “Lagrima is aware of this.”

Vex gaped, putting the pieces together. His eyes widened and an irate vertical crease formed on his brow. There was no way – no way! – that Lagrima was risking her life for him and Saracen again!

“Noah, do … you remember the warding … sigil?”

The receptionist stared. “What? Y-yes, of course. Why?”

“Draw … as many as you can … have the children help. As soon – argh – as you have the shield … under your control … I can erase … my sigil.”

“But -”

“Noah, please”, Vex begged, the coldness threatening to cut off his breath and permanently settling in his lungs. “I can’t take this much longer!”

The receptionist nodded and ran back inside and Dexter could hear his voice but was unable to make out any words.

Saracen dropped to the ground next to his husband, Erskine having let go of him to get the kids to safety. Dark tendrils of shadow coiled and writhed about him and found their way up his sleeves and down his collar. Sharp edges pressed into his skin, tearing it, assaulting it. Tears stung his eyes as he reached out for Dexter who was deathly pale, almost bluish.

“Dex … ter.”

Vex looked up, teeth clattering, skin clammy and cold to the touch. He drew his eyebrows together when he saw the state his husband was in. He was bleeding from a cut on his cheek but who could tell how his body looked beneath these layers of clothing. Darkness coiled as he resisted and fought back with all his might. Dexter’s heart jumped in misery at the sorry sight Saracen presented. Not again! Not after he had been forced to listen to Saracen’s screams as he was nearly tortured to death by a maniac. Not after all those nightmares he would wake from with a gasp. Those nasty things where he would see Saracen die over and over again, blaming him for not being there when it mattered. Not after he had whispered soothing things to his husband while Saracen silently cried in Dexter’s arms until sheer exhaustion finally permitted him to fall asleep in the warm embrace of his lover.

“Saracen”, Dexter whispered and took Rue’s hand desperately reaching out to him. It was warm and comforting even if Saracen flinched at the icy touch. “Don’t … worry. I'm here for you. I – I love you.”

Saracen’s eyes went soft for a moment. “You're so sappy, darling. And … I love you, too.”

“C’mere”, Dexter weakly pulled at Saracen’s hand, motioning the other to scoot closer until he was able to wrap his cold arms around him.

“Ice? I don’t … envy you at all”, Saracen said. “Elementals can be … nasty as hell.”

“Shit”, Dexter breathed, a sudden thought popping into his mind and he grasped Saracen’s hand harder. “There are two of them.”

Saracen frowned, not willing to play games right now or guess the meaning of Dexter’s cryptic talk. “What?”

“Necromancers can’t manipulate the elements … There are at least two attacking the shield.”

“So?” Saracn didn't see the big picture. Here he was, taking the onslaught with his own body. What could the number of attackers change? It wouldn’t be helping him much.

“Lagrima. She went after them.”

**ooOoOoo**

Erskine left the teens in Noah’s care who was currently instructing the kids to draw warding sigils onto the walls and the floor of the lobby. He didn't ask how he had managed to have them comply or why he knew how exactly to draw the glyphs. Important was, that the receptionist took control over the shield and Saracen and Dexter would be released from their predicament.

“All set! Erskine, please let Dexter and Saracen know. We take over from here.”

Ravel nodded and turned, hurrying outside again where his friends were just struggling to their feet again. Although, obviously in pain, they seemed to have found some new sort of motivation to fight.

“Noah has got it under control!” he shouted, taking the three steps in one leap and covering the last few meters in a sprint.

Immediately, Dexter gripped Saracen’s hand and dragged the dagger he had managed to hold on to, over the sigil, cutting deeply. The reaction was instantaneous. The shadows dissipated as quickly as they had appeared and once he sliced through Dexter’s sigil the icy tendrils vanished and took the agony with them. Only the wounds inflicted remained, weeping gashes and cuts all over their bodies. It didn’t bother them all too much. There were bigger fish to fry.

“Much better”, Saracen winced with a relieved smile. He wiped the beads of sweat off of his brow and turned to his husband. “Shall we?”

Dexter nodded, still panting. He offered Saracen a hand and pulled him to his feet. “Do you know where she is?”

“At the back of the building.”

Ravel raised a curious eyebrow, frowning at his friends breaking into a shaky run. “What is going on?” he shouted after them.

“We’ll explain later!” Saracen’s voice trailed back at him. “Take care of the soldiers and get Corvo!”

Erskine shrugged. “I guess I’ll help the others then.”

Lagrima regretted her decision to go after Ciardha and Drawn on her own the second she stepped outside the hotel and cleared the protective energy shield. Logic would have called to stay inside and attack with electricity or snipe them but the girl’s magical reserves were nearly depleted and she was forced to engage in hand-to-hand combat. An odd calm washed over her, settling in. Lagrima knew she stood no chance against Ciardha and could at best tickle her with the puny knife she had kept. Protective clothing and immediate regeneration skills made the Necromancer untouchable. But her goal was set on distracting Ciardha from the shield and have her focus her attention on her and her alone. For as long as possible – the outcome or her fate was of no importance.

Since Ciardha already knew she would be getting company, Lagrima made no effort to hide her presence as she walked down the two steps from the hotel, stopping at the bottom. Drawn was nowhere to be seen but it couldn’t be helped now.

Only a few feet away from her stood the Necromancer who was about to command another shadow spear to attack the weakened shield. When Lagrima started walking towards her, a grin spread over her face and she adopted a fighting stance, forgetting about the shield for the moment. This was far more fun, especially with her opponent looking as though she might break down any second now. Lagrima was pale, had a feverish air about her and although she attempted a confident strut, it was clear she was not at the peak of her strength.

_She is tough_ , Ciardha had to give her that much. Of course she knew why Lagrima was keen on challenging her: she wanted to stall. Ciardha smirked – she was able to stall as well. Leontion Drawn would be taking care of the shield while she had all the time in the world to stall Lagrima’s death.

Lagrima reached behind her and under her armoured leather jacket, drawing a knife from a scabbard she liked to keep on the small of her back. The weapon was double-edged, narrow and had a small symbol carved into the metal near the hilt which was wrapped in black leather strips. The sunlight of the late afternoon reflected in the old yet polished blade, hiding the one or other notch and scratch it sported.

And then she attacked.

Darting forward, Lagrima switched the knife to her left hand and jabbed it at Ciardha’s right side, just below her risen elbow. Like this, the Necromancer had to either order a shadow or lower her arm completely to block. Or she let herself be stabbed.

Lagrima knew she had less than fractions of a second to react accordingly which was why the kind of defence was irrelevant to her. She had drawn her other arm back with the slightest delay to the stabbing motion and was now snapping her hip forward, bringing her right arm in for a punch against the temple.

Ciardha blocked the knife with shadows and raised her arm minimally so Lagrima’s fist scraped uselessly against her wrist. She curled her fingers and went for a throat jab. Lagrima bent her upper body back enough so it would miss and grabbed the Necromancer’s wrist with her hand. Pulling, the girl tried to gain some sort of leverage as she took a quick step and half-turning clutched Ciardha’s offending arm between her ribs and forearm. Raising her arm, she smacked the elbow into Ciardha’s face and leaped free.

The two women circled each other, waiting, assessing. Lagrima’s senses were sharpened to a shattering degree. She was painfully aware that Ciardha wouldn’t have to move at all in order to control the darkness so when the girl ducked to the side and rolled over the ground it was more of a hunch than actual knowledge of something coming.

The spear dug into the tar just where she had been standing.

“I'm impressed”, Ciardha said in a soft, calming voice.

“Good for you.” Lagrima knew she couldn’t get distracted by conversation or else she would never see or rather guess the shadow-weapons coming. She flipped the knife in her hand so she was gripping it in reversed fashion. Two quick paces and she was onto Ciardha, slicing from right to left across her chest. The Necromancer blocked with her arm before the blade touched her body and her fist collided with Lagrima’s solarplexus.

The girl gasped breathlessly and doubled over. Her shirt had absorbed most of the blow’s power but couldn’t completely protect her from the force. Ciardha pulled her into an upright position again and headbutted her.

Lagrima staggered back, clutching her nose. Although it was not broken, the pain was clouded her vision for a moment and tears flooded her eyes. She blinked them away, raising the knife again. A grim expression had worked itself onto her features and her focus was on the smirking Necromancer before her. She was taunting her, playing with her – Ciardha could have finished her off within twenty seconds if she truly wanted to and she knew it. And she knew that Lagrima knew. Her grin grew wider as she swaggered towards the girl.

Suddenly two tendrils lashed out at her. Lagrima deflected the shades with her knife and danced to the left which she realized too late had been Ciardha’s intention. A hammer of darkness met the girl and she was sent careening back, landing hard.

Coughing, Lagrima fought to her feet again and attacked anew. _No pause. No distractions_ , she thought as she stabbed at Ciardha’s throat. The Necromancer swatted her hand aside and attempted to come in with a punch of her own. Lagrima leaped to the left, driving the arm further away from her and was now standing at Ciardha’s side. She moved in with a kick to the knee which had her opponent grunt with pain and shadow knives darted out at her. The girl deflected two with the blade, avoided another three by ducking and leaping but two found their mark. One thudded uselessly against her leg, the other graced her cheek a bit too narrowly for her taste and she could feel the blood start to trickle down her cheek. Only a shallow cut. It would stop bleeding soon.

Lagrima cried out as her shirt rode up with the movement and two knives smacked into her left side. She staggered back until she reached the fence of the parking lot, sagging against it.

“ _Cazzo_!” she hissed and curled her fingers into the cold wire-netting. Her breaths came in heavy pants and the pain radiated in hot pulsing gusts from the wound. At first she refused to look down, imploring adrenaline to reign in the pain so she could continue to fight but when the blades inside her felt icy cold, she risked a glance.

Two long light blue icicles protruded from her side.

Lagrima looked up and could see Drawn walk towards them, arms clasped behind his back like professors were prone to do. Where had he come from all of a sudden? Or had he been here all along, offering the fight to Ciardha?

Drawn was not smiling and judging by his expression, he rarely did so. From his looks he must have been in his late thirties. Dressed in washed out grey jeans, blue shirt and grey vest, he had the vibe of a banker. The ash blond hair combed back neatly over his scalp didn’t particularly help matters.

Lagrima’s knees gave out and it took all of her strength to just remain more or less upright. There was not much fighting to be done on the ground.

“Don’t tell me you're already giving up?” Ciardha teased condescendingly and waggled a finger into her direction.

Lagrima screamed in pain as shadows moved up under her shirt, slowly dragging sharp edges across her belly. Deep and deeper they cut. Finally, she slid down the fence until she sat curled up against the wire. Clattering the dagger toppled to the ground and Ciardha picked it up, turning and inspecting it.

“Lovely craftsmanship.”

“Fuck you”, Lagrima growled while she was clutching her stomach. The fiery pain set her entire midsection on fire and was travelling fast through her entire body. In her side fire and ice fought for the upper hand and she could feel the icicles with her every movement. And they showed no intention of melting any time soon. This was bad. She had lost her knife and the fight in just under five minutes and with two opponents she couldn’t think of fighting back. Instead, she looked up at them defiantly.

“Enough”, Drawn said calmly. “Corvo wants her alive and if you keep this up she will have bled out in ten minutes.”

“I’ll be careful”, Ciardha assured him confidently and hunched down to meet Lagrima’s eye with a smirk. Holding up the dagger so the girl would see it, she traced her jawline with the sharp blade before plunging it into her shoulder.

Lagrima screamed. _This was fine. She was fine._ Ciardha still had her attention on her and Drawn was standing a bit further off with arms crossed, a frown on his face. As long as neither of them had the idea of taking the shield down, she was doing her job. Pain was irrelevant, pain went away with time.

“Now, this is a special weapon”, Ciardha crooned as she turned the hilt, drawing another scream out of the girl. “Or perhaps you're just not wearing protective clothing.” Pulling the dagger extra slowly from her shoulder, Ciardha had shades shatter the icicles.

_I’m fine. I’m fine_ , Lagrima implored herself as she hissed in pain and clenched her teeth. _Just a few more minutes. Hold out_. Anger swelled up inside her as she saw Ciardha’s smirking face and with a desperate gathering of strength she reared up and punched the Necromancer against the side of her head. Or at least wanted to.

Ciardha easily blocked the punch and grabbed Lagrima by her jacket and hauled her up, only to throw her into the open space of the parking lot. The girl rolled over the tar and when she came to a halt on her stomach, she didn’t get up.


	15. Counterspies and Deals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yedra makes her move.

“What are they doing?” Corvo asked, irritated and stole a glance at her watch. “The shield should be destroyed by now. We are losing precious time.”

Yedra scanned her surroundings. The Dead Men were still engulfed in an ongoing battle with their toughest soldiers and it seemed like an active stalemate: neither party made any relevant progress in beating their enemies and still fists flew, fire spat and swords rang. The shield was in place as ever and she could see the mortal peaking out of his hotel. Rue and Vex were nowhere to be seen. Either they had hidden away inside the building or they had gotten rid of their sigils and where attempting to flee with the amulet while everyone was busy fighting. Slowly, a plan began to take form in her mind. Maybe she could …

“Boss, head to the back of the building and meet up with Ciardha and Drawn. Leave the amulet to me”, Yedra said and before Corvo could protest the Elemental had already disappeared between the combatants.

Seconds later she stood just outside the energy field, shouting up at Noah who had – against better judgement – risked a glance outside and was regretting it already. Not only were the Dead Men unable to completely take out Corvo’s forces, now one of the enemy mages was also trying to soft-talk him. “Oi, Mortal! I want to talk!”

Noah looked down at the woman. She looked hard as nails which stood in stark contrast to her casual clothing. Jeans and leather jacket were highly impractical in a fight. Lagrima had also just gone with T-shirt and leather jacket. Two of the Dead Men wore suits for God’s sake! Perhaps they were all insane or maybe fashion was more important than safety?

 _She can’t hurt you. You're safe as long as you don’t step outside_ , Noah told himself but drew in a nervous breath anyway. He glanced around to see if anyone was creeping up on him while he was focused on the annoyingly amused mage waiting cross-armed for his reaction. Even though his reason-driven mind screamed at him to head inside and simply ignore the woman, his instincts urged him to stay and listen to what she had to say. Perhaps he could find out more and relay the information to Rue and Vex? Gulping, he looked at the mage.

“I have a deal to offer.”

Noah almost sagged with relief; there was no way he would fall for this. A small pitying smile played around his mouth. “It is not for me to strike bargains with sorcerers.”

“This time it is.”

“I'm done talking to you.”

“At least listen to what I have to say!”

When Noah turned back around, Yedra had abandoned her condescending air and had raised her arms in a wait-I-didn’t-mean-it-like-that-gesture. However, it was the tone of her voice that had made the receptionist stop and nod.

 _What am I doing?!_ He was close to panicking. Bargaining with a mage – an enemy mage no less. He was vastly out of his depth.

“My name is Yedra and yes, I'm with Corvo. Recently, I have started to become a bit worried about her goals, though.”

_Yedra. The counterspy._

Noah snorted. “So you're the one who helped Rue and Vex escape. What is this? You want me to repay the favour by handing the amulet over? I’m afraid I can’t and won’t do that.”

“They told you about it, huh? I can see now why the Dead Men like you and I have to admit I had planned to convince you to just do that but as soon as we started to talk I knew anything but the truth wouldn’t work with you.”

“Stop flattering me. It’s not working.”

Yedra actually laughed.

“Why did you help Rue and Vex?”

The mage shrugged. “I guess I wanted to wreak some havoc. You know, make the game more interesting. The Dead Men make excellent adversaries and Corvo would have killed Rue and where is the fun in that? Challenging them head-on in a fight seemed far more rewarding.”

“If you want to cut a deal you shouldn’t lie to me.” Noah couldn’t believe himself. Was this really him speaking? Him? Noah, the hotelier with too much love for stories and cozyness? His heart pounded wildly in his chest and he was afraid the mage would see right through his tough mask. It already took all of his willpower not to knead the brim of his waistcoat. Saracen had pointed out this tic and he was working hard on abandoning it. “What’s in it for you?”

Yedra raised an eyebrow in surprise and gave a short laugh but turned serious soon enough. “I see why they like you. I truly do. Thing is, not even I want to see the entire world burn. You know, living in it and everything. You ask what is in it for me? I'm a murderer, hitter, assassin, call me what you like. Killing is part of me and I love every second of it. Don’t look so shocked, I have got to have hobbies, too.”

“But you see, the thing is, not even I want to see the entire world burn. You know, living in it and everything. And if everyone is dead, who do I get to kill? I actually don’t really care who gets to win, all I want is some action.”

“You're mad!” Noah said but cringed internally. He felt light-headed and nauseous.

“And I'm the best chance at survival you have right now.”

Noah bit his lip. “Why should I believe you? You hurt Rue. I … I have seen what you did to him. All those wounds and cuts and bruises. So much blood. I freaking helped stop the bleeding and save his life!”

“Unfortunate but necessary. Probably. At least that is what the antagonist turned good says at this point in the story, right?” She offered Noah a weak smile. “Listen, I'm evil and crooked and a criminal and if you knew what I have done you would faint on the spot but not even I want to be part of Corvo’s crusade. It’s suicide and I don’t do that.”

“Antagonist turned good? No, you're evil through and through. How do I know you're not playing me as well and planning on double-crossing me?”

Yedra grinned devilishly. “Now, that you can’t know.”

“What do you need me for? I'm not willing to hand over the amulet since that would be helping Corvo. And by the way, haven’t you had enough opportunities to – to get rid of Corvo? I mean, as one of her closest soldiers?”

Laughter bubbled from Yedra’s lips. “I'm a mercenary. She trusts me as far as she can throw me. Corvo is well aware that if someone were to offer me more money to eliminate her, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“You're disgusting”, Noah spat and the nausea intensified. He hoped not to black out before this conversation was over – what an embarrassment.

“Loyalty destroys you!” Yedra snapped at a surprised Noah. “Caring destroys you. Love destroys you. Look at the Dead Men or at Vex and Rue for that matter. If one of were to die …” she didn’t have to finish the sentence for Noah to piece the rest together himself. He had seen the hollow expression on Dexter’s face two nights ago when his husband had been kidnapped. Love had turned him into a vengeful man with his mind set on destroying the people who had dared to lay a hand on Saracen.

“There wouldn’t have been an opening”, Yedra continued more calmly. “Not with Ciardha around. As opposed to me, she is very very loyal to Corvo and would die for her – if she could be killed. I still haven’t figured out how to do that exactly. How do you kill darkness itself?”

A frown worked its way on Noah’s brow and he opened his mouth to ask.

“Ciardha. A Necromancer”, Yedra clarified when she caught the confused expression on the receptionist’s face.

Even though Noah was clueless as to why a Necromancer meant especially bad news, he just nodded. Probably someone who could raise the dead. Perhaps Skulduggery was also a Necromancer? He seemed to have some sort of control over death, at least.

The gears in his mind were turning and rattling and spinning. Could he trust – no – believe this woman? Reason screamed no but intuition suggested yes. What should he do? Noah would have to decide quickly: to the west the sun was nearing the horizon and Beltene was almost upon them.

“What’s the deal? If I don’t like it I walk.”

“Agreed.”


	16. Rescue?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dexter and Saracen to the rescue. Dead Men right behind.

Dexter nudged Saracen in the ribs. “Are you seeing what I'm seeing?”

Just seconds ago, the mages had reached the corner of the hotel and were trying to make themselves a picture of what was happening. Of course, the screams had reached them long before they could even peak around the corner. But seeing what was going on, was even more painful.

“Got a plan?” Saracen winced as the Necromancer tossed Lagrima to the floor like a rag doll. She didn’t show a sign of life.

“Heroically dash in and save her?”

Dexter sighed. “Yeah, why not. Ciardha will use her against us. And who is the dude?”

“No idea. He must be Drawn but it really doesn’t matter. Two on two. Thoughts? Time’s a-hasting.”

“Pretend we drop her?”

“You want to pull that off here? Lagrima can’t take any more of this beating!” Saracen hissed.

“I'm all ears for a better plan.”

Saracen tightened his jaw and nodded jerkily. “Okay.”

They could see Ciardha stroll over to where movement came into Lagrima and she was trying to scramble away from the Necromancer. A conversation drifted over to them.

“Ciardha, I think that is enough. Don’t forget, Corvo wants her revenge and she will not take it lightly that the girl is already gravely wounded.”

“You're a spoilsport, Drawn”, Ciardha said and kicked Lagrima in the side, sending her to the floor again with a sharp cry of pain. “But I was thinking, we could use her as leverage to have them finally take that damn shield down.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Torture her in front of the Dead Men. Their soft hearts will not be able to bear the sight and do as we ask.”

“Torture? What part of no harm did you not understand?”

Ciardha smirked. “Oh, but I meant your kind of torture.”

Laughter was the answer but not from Drawn; he thought it was a fairly terrible plan but that hardly gave him a reason to laugh. He preferred frowning.

“Awful planning on your end”, Dexter Vex said and slow-clapped as he and Rue walked towards them. Neither seemed to be in a particular hurry and when they stopped, Vex even stuck his hand in his pocket in a relaxed gesture as though he were meeting friends.

“And why is that?” Ciardha asked innocently and rammed her heel into Lagrima’s stomach, paying close attention to the Dead Men’s reaction. To her surprise they didn’t even flinch at the sharp cry of pain.

“True, we hate seeing you treat her like this”, Saracen answered and hoped his voice was collected enough, hoped it was cold enough. “Nobody should look down on others like you do. However, while she is an ally, there is no way we would put her life before everyone living on this planet. One life does not matter if the world is at stake.”

“We learned that the hard way”, Dexter added with a dark undertone. “We’re not here to save her, we’re here to take you down and if we can help her, then that’s a bonus. Not a priority.”

Tears stung Lagrima’s eyes. It was a scam. It had to be. A brilliant con to save her. But when she looked up into the cold stony masks that were Rue’s and Vex’ faces, her resolution started to crumble. Doubts seeped into her, riddled her very being and unhinged her mind. What if they were abandoning her? No, not after everything she had done for them; they couldn’t leave her like this! Weren’t they friends? Had that only been her own naivité to trust them?

_I’ve always worked alone because sooner or later people turn on you. Just like the Dead Men. Just like everyone. They’d hand me over in a heartbeat if it meant saving the world. Wasn’t this what I wanted? Distracting Ciardha long enough for Vex and Rue to save the children, no matter the consequences? Yes, but I thought they’d protect me at least. How stupidly wrong have I been_ , Lagrima thought bitterly and lowered her head.

Lagrima was a mess. Everyone could see that: a few stray strands of hair had broken free of her braid and clung to her sweat-covered pale face. Haunted green eyes and shallow breathing made her look even worse for wear. Her hands were pressed onto her stomach but blood had started to dye them red. The shirt, once light grey was crimson now.

“Even if she is your ally? I didn’t think the Dead Men had fallen so low. She was willing to sacrifice herself to keep me busy, to keep me distracted from destroying the shield. Completely drained from sniping, no magic left and she still threw herself in harm’s way so you could keep fighting. She was ready to die for you”, Ciardha pointed out and pressed down harder. Lagrima winced.

“We never asked her to”, Saracen said and out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw Lagrima sag even more and he was certain he heard a sob. This was not going as planned. Lagrima somehow didn’t understand that this was their plan. To make her worthless and invaluable in the eye of their opponents and thus saving her life. The girl took it personally and Saracen realised she must have been abandoned or betrayed more than just by Corvo to react like this. Suddenly he remembered how she had been ready to fight them when Dexter was pretending to report her to the soldiers at the warehouse. What had they done? It was too late to change tactics, however.

“Don’t fall for it”, Drawn cut into the conversation. His voice was still calm but a vertical crease between his eyebrows betrayed his feelings. “They do care. Look.” He pointed his hand at Lagrima and her tears sank into the skin.

For a moment nothing happened. Then Lagrima’s face screwed up in pain and she clawed at her chest as though she were trying to rip it open. A scream tore from her throat. Ciardha released her and the girl curled up. “Please … “ she gasped. “Stop.”

“All right, enough chit chat. Dex, I take Drawn, you try your luck with Ciardha.” Saracen broke into a sprint and threw himself at Drawn.

Icicles dropped out of the sky and Saracen leaped to the side, ducking and rolling over the ground. Gracefully, he evaded them, although more than once it seemed like he might be struck. It was as though he knew where he was allowed to step and how to move. His fist collided with Drawn’s jaw and the mage stumbled back.

Shocked, he looked at his opponent, whose face now openly showed all the anger he had fought down before. “How did you-”

“I'm Saracen Rue and I know things!”

**ooOoOoo**

When the Dead Men had taken the final soldier out of commission, Corvo had gone. Obviously. Only an idiot would wait around until they were discovered by the now overwhelming force of the enemy. Corvo certainly was not an idiot.

“Great”, Ghastly mumbled when he looked up to where Lagrima was supposed to be and found that the girl had vanished as well. They had probably flocked together somewhere, transferring the battle to another location without bothering to notify them.

“Where could they be?” Ghastly asked. “Shield’s still up, so there is no way, Corvo has the amulet but the sun is already setting. We are losing time. Even if this festival thing is tomorrow evening, it is going to be a close call. What are the chances that if we simply wait this nightmare will be over? Without the amulet, she shouldn’t be able to tear down the walls of reality, right?”

Skulduggery shook his head. Sliding bullets into the chambers of his revolvers, he didn’t look up. “Correct. Still, I have a bad feeling that she has an ace up her sleeve. There is too much confidence in this woman.”

“So we stall?” Anton asked.

Skulduggery nodded. “We stall but first we need to find them. Otherwise we are stalling ourselves from stalling her.”

Erskine smirked. “They are at the back of the building. Lagrima is fighting with them.” He grinned even wider when he saw the surprised faces of his friends. So this was how Saracen felt all the time knowing things nobody could possibly know. It was a good feeling, he had to admit.

“Saracen? Is that you?” Ghastly quipped. “You look so … old.”

Erskine boxed the tailor on the arm and opened his mouth in mock offence. “I’ll show you old, grandpa. Let’s go.”

**ooOoOoo**

Dexter was being driven back by the Necromancer. His face was contorted from concentration and determination but she was more powerful when it came to magic. Dexter’s energy was swallowed up by hungry waves of shadows as though they were nothing. He ducked spears, knives and whips, blocked swords, daggers and maces. Never landed an attack. At the moment, Vex didn’t even have the advantage of muscle strength: he was worn, hurt and drawn. Sweat pearled on his brow and ran down the back of his neck.

Behind Dexter the Dead Men could see the unmoving shape of Lagrima. She was lying on her side, probably unconscious or … Neither of them wanted to finish the thought. However, it looked as though Vex was trying to keep himself between the prone form of the girl and his opponent. He was still protecting her. She was alive!

Corvo was nowhere to be seen. 

Saracen was engulfed in an epic battle with an ice mage, dodging light blue lances and splinters of ice. He looked more irate than determined and while his attacks were precise and delivered with speed, the icicles kept him from getting too close.

Skulduggery pointed his gloved bony finger. “Erskine, Ghastly. Find Corvo. Stop her, attack her, get coffee together. I don’t care as long as she doesn’t open a portal. Anton, get Lagrima and bring her to safety. Then find Larrikin. We meet up at the _Midnight Hotel_.”

“What about you?” Shudder inquired.

“Me? Oh, I feel like breaking the ice a little.”

Groans of exasperation met his pun and they knew, if he could, Skulduggery would have grinned gleefully. As it were, he adjusted his hat, took one of his revolvers in hand and sprinted out of hiding and around the corner.

Drawn had his back to the advancing skeleton and the first shot was more of a warning than an actual attempt to kill him. Skulduggery could have eliminated his opponent with a bullet in the back which would have gone through and through his heart and killed him on the spot. But he was not that kind of man any more. Saracen was not in mortal danger so the bullet slammed into Drawn’s shoulder instead. There would be no hesitation were his friend’s life depending on him being able to pull the trigger in cold blood. He still was that kind of man.

Skulduggery started firing again but Drawn slipped to the side, holding his shoulder and fully exposed Saracen to the bullets. It hadn’t been the first time they had done this. Saracen had seen Skulduggery and his revolver and knew he was supposed to look out for himself when the shooting started. He ducked and rolled over the ground, bullets whizzing past above him. Fluidly, he got to his feet again.

“Skul, he’s yours. I help Dex!” Saracen shouted and took off at a sprint. He saw his husband draw up a field of energy with his hands before his body to shield himself from a spear of darkness. Saracen moved in and kicked at Ciardha’s knees. The Necromancer hissed in pain and moved position until she had the couple in her sights. Fists raised, her grin taunted them to attack.

“Dexter?”

Vex nodded grimly. “I got you. This is for Lagrima.”

They moved in with a punch at the same time. Ciardha took a step back, locking her feet as two fists came her way. Bringing her hands up she blocked both with her arms and leaped free.

Saracen was already on her. Blocking his kick to the midsection, Ciardha darted forward. Saracen saw it coming and pushed at her forearm with his left hand and moved, clashing into her side while immediately bringing his right hand down to grasp her wrist. His left elbow slammed into her face.  
Ciardha howled in pain and staggered back, blood coming from her nose. Grimacing she let shadows coil up and they became whips and sharp tendrils.

Dexter pushed Saracen to the side and drew up an energy field. The shadows smacked and lapped against it. The exertion clearly showed in his features and Saracen knew he was trying to buy him some time. 

“Dexter! On my mark!” Saracen ducked and dodged the shadows coming his way. He could see Ciardha’s pattern. He knew how she fought. Saracen opened with a punch to the side of her head, expecting it to be blocked and brought his knee up at the same time. It collided with Ciardha’s abdomen and she snarled, ordering shadows to capture him. Suddenly, his left wrist was wrenched behind his back and the Necromancer drove him onto his knees. Darkness swirled around her, engulfing both her and Saracen who winced as his shoulder was close to breaking point. Saracen knew he had mere seconds before the Necromancer would skewer him. But still he waited on – he waited for the opening. Saracen glanced at Dexter. If he had shouted, waved red flags and hopped up and down, it wouldn’t have made a difference. The signal was loud and clear for Dexter to understand. 

_**NOW**_ , Saracen was saying.

Even though Dexter could not see how the situation had changed he trusted Saracen to know. He had already gathered a big ball of sizzling energy and only as he threw it, he saw what his husband had known all along.

Ciardha took a tiny step to the side in order to finally break Saracen’s arm or rip it off entirely – Dexter wouldn’t put it beyond her at this point – and her shadows gathered at her right side, exposing her front. The ball of energy hit her square in the chest and she stumbled back, releasing Saracen.

Dexter stepped in between Saracen and the hissing Necromancer, who swung at him. Dexter ducked and danced to the side, while Saracen appeared from behind him and grabbed Ciardha’s wrist with his left hand. One step and he was showing her his side and while his right hand went to her wrist, his left arm snaked up under hers and onto the back of her neck. Saracen pushed down on Ciardha’s head and brought his knee up simultaneously. There was the ugly crunching of a nose breaking and Ciardha clutched it, tears gathering in her eyes. Saracen let go and moved for Dexter to throw a low punch at her ribs, sending her to the ground. Energy flared in his hand and he sank to one knee to deliver the final knocking-out blow.

“Dex! Stop!”

Vex obeyed instantly. Saracen’s voice left no room for thought and Dexter lowered his hand, half-turning his head. A steep crease dug into his brow when he saw his husband being restrained by one of Corvo’s ink figures. Both his arms were behind his back and thin trail of bluish black ink trailed across his throat. Dexter never doubted that it could and would kill him in an instant. Now of all times Saracen had not known about their impending doom? Sometimes he thought Saracen’s power was mocking him.

“Saracen …” Dexter said and cried out when Ciardha painfully grabbed and forced him into a kneeling position, shadows wrapping around his arms, legs and throat.

“Be a good boy, Vex and your sweetheart might live to see tomorrow”, she drawled and grinned, wiping the blood from her face.

Dexter growled in response but didn’t fight back. His attention was on Mila Corvo who was walking towards them. Behind her silently floated five of the ink figures. They had no features, not even real faces and their bodies were shapeless and wavy at the edges as the ink moved and flowed.  
One of the ink figures led a numb and dazed Lagrima, who had her arms wrapped protectively around her midsection. Her complexion was so pale she almost seemed translucent and her eyes were dull and unfocused. Dexter was not sure she even knew what was happening as she staggered along, most likely only on her feet because of her captor grabbing her upper arm as though it was their last life line.

Saracen’s eyes widened when he saw two ink-people drag Anton Shudder along. “How on earth-” He didn’t finish the question and continued to stare at the scene before him. Skulduggery had arrived two minutes ago. Maybe less. If he assumed Anton had been with him, that meant, in this short time Corvo had taken out Anton without much of a fight. She was not even breaking a sweat. She must have surprised him or used Lagrima against him.

“Vex. Saracen”, Corvo greeted with a nod when she was close enough. She looked worn and tired but her eyes were determined and it was clear that Corvo would not let herself be distracted. Not now.

Dexter raised an eyebrow. “Did I miss anything? You two on a first name basis?”

“Long story”, Saracen sighed and Dexter shrugged.

Skulduggery was manhandled across the open space by Drawn and pushed to his knees next to Saracen and Dexter. “I surrendered. I was not beaten”, he declared.

“I feel better already knowing that”, Saracen huffed sarcastically.

“Do we kill them?” Ciardha wanted to know.

Corvo shook her head. “Not yet. We still have to verify that I can open a portal by using the energy released when someone dies. I'm not sure the amulet is capable of absorbing and transforming this energy. Better we have several people to experiment with.”

“I don’t mean to rain on your parade, Mila, but you don’t have the amulet and as far as I'm concerned you probably won’t get it. The shields are still up.”

Corvo smiled and Saracen felt the hairs on his arms stand. “Yedra is onto it. She is very good at liberating things.”

Dexter glanced at his husband. “We have seen what she is capable of. Liberating you say?” He smirked. “Yedra actually liberated Saracen. Without her, I probably wouldn’t have been able to save him.”

Corvo didn’t even hesitate. “I’m aware.”

Dexter dropped his grin and gulped. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew. Yedra is only completely loyal to herself and what she really wants are fights. If I had killed Saracen, who would she have fought? You? Without wanting to rain on your parade I think, that would have been a meagre substitution.” 

Anton raised an eyebrow. “Harsh.”

Corvo turned her back on them, overlooking the parking lot. “Yedra has been hyped for hours at the prospect of fighting a man who knew things. She thought he must be able to predict patterns and attacks. Turns out Saracen’s power isn’t that great at all. Yedra was really disappointed.”

Saracen _harrumphed_.

“You sure have a lot of history”, Skulduggery remarked drily but was ignored. Saracen still pouted while Dexter was busy scowling. “I really do hate to interrupt but I think the woman in question is approaching. And uh … it looks like we have a problem.”

Yedra was stalking towards them, one hand in her pocket, the other fisted Noah’s waistcoat at the back of his neck. She herded the receptionist whose hands were tied behind his back, in front of her and then carelessly pushed him to the ground. Noah yelped as his knees scraped over the rough tar. With a last disparaging glance at Noah, Yedra pulled a wrapped object from her pocket and handed it to Corvo. Nobody needed to wait for her to reveal what was inside to know it was the amulet. Corvo’s eyes started to shine and a smile tugged at her lips. 

“Noah?” Saracen asked carefully. “What did she tell you? What did she promise you?”

The receptionist didn’t answer and kept his head lowered. Saracen was about to ask again, when finally, Noah, whispered. “I‘m so sorry. There was no choice …”

“There is always a choice, Noah”, Dexter almost snapped. He didn’t blame the man, he blamed himself. How had he not realized that Noah might be overwhelmed by the whole situation? After all, it had only been two days ago that he had been introduced to the world of magic. He had been attacked, threatened and shaken in fear of what might happen to not only him but the entire town. How had Dexter not seen that Noah might break down under this weight? He had relied on Noah, he had seen his usefulness, his eagerness to help and he had simply taken it for granted. 

Noah lowered his head even more and sat back on his heels. “I'm sorry.”

“What did she promise you?” Anton asked, a hard line digging into his brow.

“That she wouldn’t kill your friends.”

“Who? All of them?”

Noah nodded jerkily, then shook his head. “No, Larrikin wasn’t there. Only the others. They engaged her but she almost easily overpowered them and threatened to kill them if I didn’t give her the amulet and act as a hostage. I … I didn’t know what to do, I was petrified. She was about to kill Erskine and I – I just complied.” Noah had gone quieter with every word.

“Where are they?”

Yedra huffed. “I do stay true to my word. They are tied to a street sign. Alive. We won’t be bothered for a while.”

“It might have been risky to leave them out of your sights, Yedra”, Drawn pointed out. “They are quite lively.” To underline his words he shook Skulduggery who offered an irritated grunt at the treatment.

Saracen shook his head. “Why, Noah? After everything we did, after all this fighting, you just gave up?”

Noah flinched at the harsh words. “I couldn’t see them killed!”

“If we don’t stop Corvo, they are going to die any-”

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have acted exactly the same, Saracen! Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done everything to save your friends. There is no way you can convince me that you wouldn’t have damned the world in order to save your comrades, your family!”

“They mean nothing to you.”

“How can you say that? Obviously, I don’t know them as well as you do but they are humans, people who don’t deserve to die. For that alone I couldn’t bear to watch them be executed in front of me. And on top of that, they are your friends! You would have cursed my name had I not given in and handed over the amulet. Your friends are alive because I was weak and you're glad about it!” Noah shouted the last words, earning surprised looks from the mages around him.

Corvo raised an eyebrow, finally gracing Noah with a glance. “The Mortal shows spirit, I like that. You will have the entire night to talk about this.” She started walking towards the hotel. “We take them with us.”

**ooOoOoo**

“We are not trusting her, do we?” Erskine asked as he and Ghastly abandoned their look-out post to follow the small procession of prisoners and their captors.

“Don’t be silly. She will probably sell us out this very second. Noah, however, he seems pretty trustworthy. He put on a good show just now and I think both Saracen and Dexter not only like but also rely on him.”

Erskine nodded. “I’m not sure it was wise to let him help, though. He is a civilian after all. Brave but inexperienced. Do you think he would have given up the amulet hadn’t it been for us?”

The Dead Men had seen Noah arguing with Yedra and after a short scuffle, the Elemental had been subdued. As tricky and cunning Yedra was, after hearing what she had to say, the mages had decided to take the risk and convinced Noah to hand the amulet over. The man had been relieved that the decision was no longer on his shoulders, and at the same time he had offered his help.

“You don’t know what you're getting yourself into”, Erskine had tried to reason but his words had fallen on deaf ears. In the end, Ghastly had agreed. Together, they had seen to it that two of the oldest teens were taking care of the other kids. They would remain inside Noah’s Hotel until everything was over.”

“I honestly can’t say. From what Vex told me on the phone, no questions were asked when he brought a half-dead Saracen in. Even an oaf would realise that that would be dangerous. I'm worried, too but he is a good man. Besides”, he smirked, “the others might need someone with brains for a change.”

Erskine laughed and shook his head. “Do we split up? Someone needs to take care of those soldiers down there, otherwise we can start anew tomorrow.”

“Right. You tail them while I clean up our mess and we meet at the Midnight Hotel in an hour. Anton still carries the cloaking sphere so I hope to keep this somewhat contained. But knowing us, I’ll call in the Memory Alteration specialist right now.”

“I have a feeling this is going to get ugly.”

Ghastly sighed. “When doesn’t it?”

**ooOoOoo**

The Dead Men and Noah were herded into a lower level of the warehouse which had all the makings of a labyrinth with its smaller passages and shelves full of stuff. The prisoners were locked into a windowless room stuffed with shelves and filing cabinets. Ciardha made sure, they were all properly restrained with magic-binding handcuffs before leaving the confined space with a grin.

Lagrima was pushed into the room and unable to support herself, she ended up on the floor. Groaning, she pushed herself up and let herself fall back against a cabinet. Lagrima had her eyes closed and focused on steadying her breathing but wasn’t very successful. Her hands were pressed on her stomach and she trembled.

“Lagrima? Hey, Lagrima! You have to stay awake”, Saracen urged and crouched down in front of the girl. “If you fall asleep, there is no guarantee you will wake up again.”

“What do you care?” Lagrima whispered almost too faint to hear. “You would have let me die anyway.”

Saracen winced. “We didn’t abandon you, it was a scam to save you.”

“Great job.”

Dexter joined Saracen on the ground. “We had no idea it would upset you this much. I apologise for making you think that we would sacrifice you for our own goal. That’s not how we do things. When it comes to defending the greater good each and every one of us always says they would leave the others behind. And guess what? We never did and we never would. In the end we always choose the life of one or our friends over the destruction of the earth. You're our friend and this Dead Men policy includes you now, too.”

Lagrima coughed and clenched her teeth at the pain. “I have a hard time believing that.”

The Dead Men exchanged worried looks. Lagrima needed medical attention but their hands were tied in quite the literal sense. 

“Can you pick the lock of handcuffs?” Dexter asked suddenly. “You're the only one who has their hands cuffed in front of their body. I need you to pick Skulduggery’s cuffs.”

“Why?” Lagrima snarled. “So you can escape and leave me behind again?”

“That’s not it. He is the only Elemental and thus the only one who can tend to your wounds. We can always try to escape but now might be the only time to at least take a look at your injuries … it’s our priority.”

Lagrima stared at Dexter and then at Saracen before lowering her head. “I'm sorry. I’m not good at trusting people.”

“No need to be sorry. Skulduggery, if you please.”

The skeleton shuffled over and after a lot of manoeuvring and grunting, he finally stretched his hands towards Lagrima who pulled a bobby pin from the rim of her jacket and started to work. It took her longer than any of them expected, the trembling of her hands making the process more difficult. Finally, the cuffs opened.

Skulduggery knelt down next to Lagrima, quietly talking to her while he picked the lock of her handcuffs.

“I’m sorry”, Noah suddenly said. “I lied to you.”

“We can talk about this later”, Saracen said dismissively, his eyes still on Lagrima.

“Your friends weren’t beaten by Yedra. It was the other way around. And they haven’t escaped like Yedra wanted to make Corvo believe when they were not tied to the street sign any more where she had apparently left them. This part has never happened.”

Anton cocked his head to the side. “So where are they now?”

“That I don’t know. Yedra had been offering me an alliance but I was too scared to make a terrible mistake if I accepted. That was when your friends came along and well, it was decided that we give the amulet to Corvo for the time being.”

“Wow. Ghastly and Erskine really need to work on their planning skills. This is awful”, Dexter groaned. “I’m sorry, Noah, that I doubted you.”

“Yeah, me too”, Saracen added and gave Noah an apologetic smile. He looked at Lagrima. “It just felt like we had been sacrificing too much to give up that easily.”

Lagrima whimpered when Skulduggery carefully lifted her T-Shirt to inspect the injuries on her belly. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“My shoulder was stabbed.”

“Ok. I’m very sorry but this will hurt.”

“You don’t say”, Lagrima huffed. She knew she was being unreasonably harsh and sarcastic but the pain radiating from her stomach was overpowering.

“Has any of you got any leaves to dull the pain?”

Collective shaking of heads.

Skulduggery cleared his throat and looked at the others for silent consent. Saracen nodded almost imperceptibly. The skeleton nodded in return, drew his arm back and punched the girl against the side of the head. Lagrima toppled to the side and into Skulduggery’s arms. Gently, he laid her down and quickly removed his suit jacket to provide a make-shift pillow.

“Are you out of your mind?” Noah shouted.

Without turning around, Skulduggery took off his gloves and rolled his sleeves back up over his bones. He felt Lagrima’s pulse. “Do you want her to feel excruciating pain during the entire process of me cleaning her wounds? Believe me, you don’t want to hear those screams.” Skulduggery moved Lagrima’s T-Shirt and inspected the cuts and stab wounds more closely. There was blood everywhere. After a few moments, the skeleton started waving his hand and droplets of water gathered in front of him. He worked fast and efficiently but with no medical supplies there was little he could actually do.

“I need some sort of bandages.”

“How about your shirt? Since you don’t sweat it should be the least dirty piece of cloth we have at the moment”, Anton suggested and earned a stare he interpreted as ‘Seriously?’

Still, Skulduggery nodded and relieved himself of his shirt tearing it into long strips which he then carefully but firmly wrapped around the girl. There was nothing more he could do at the moment and he leaned back against a cabinet with a groan.

Noah tried not to stare at the skeleton. This was too weird.

“Would you care to uncuff us, too?” Saracen asked after a few moments.

Skulduggery cocked his head. “Why?”

“I don’t know? Because this is really uncomfortable? Besides, we might get a chance to escape.”

Anton shook his head. “I agree on the comfort but we should stay put. Lagrima is in no condition to even stand on her own. By escaping we would be risking her life.”

“By staying, too. Corvo wants to kill all of us. She wants to sacrifice Saracen, for God’s sake. And I don’t want to know what she has planned for Lagrima”, Dexter said.

“I didn’t say it was the perfect solution.”

“Dexter is right. We have to leave as soon as possible. Corvo is busy setting up whatever she needs in order to open that portal and I really don’t want to be anywhere near it when she does”, Skulduggery said. 

Groaning, Lagrima came to again. One hand pressed against her stomach, she sat up and moved until she leaned against a cabinet. “Who punched me?” she winced and rubbed her head.

“Skulduggery,” Anton said calmly.

The skeleton tilted his head. “Thanks for the support, Anton.”

Shudder only shrugged and inched closer to the girl. “How do you feel?”

Lagrima gave him an incredulous look. “Are you serious? I just got stabbed!”

“Sorry. I’m not the best at small talk.” Anton smiled apologetically. “We have to get out of here. Can you walk?”

“Come on Anton, give her some more time!” Dexter moved closer, the worry clear on his face.

Lagrima was about to answer when they heard footsteps approaching. Immediately everyone moved their hands behind their backs as to give the illusion of still being handcuffed. But they needn’t have worried. The two men entering their small cell didn’t even bother looking at the other prisoners. Between them they carried an unconscious man. Anton stiffened when he recognised Larrikin but he schooled his features into a stony mask of indifference. Only his eyes burned with anger.

As soon as the guards had dropped Larrikin unceremoniously onto the floor and left, Anton quickly got to his feet and knelt down next to Larrikin. Nobody dared to say a word. Carefully, he turned him onto his back, trying to ignore the blood still running from a wound on his head. “You’re so fucking reckless, you idiot”, Anton mumbled while he checked Larrikin for broken bones and other injuries but it seemed as though he had only received quite a knock on the head and some shallower cuts on his arms.

Noah had taken his waistcoat off, turned it inside out and handed it to Anton. The Dead Man could see the fear in his eyes and offered a court smile when he took the garment from him and started to dab at Larrikin’s wound. He stopped when Skulduggery gently took his hands and moved them away from Larrikin.

Skulduggery began to manipulate the water in the air and quickly washed the blood away and cleaned the cut. “It’s not that deep but he’ll be out of it for a while. Ghastly said he last saw him take down an entire group of soldiers by himself. Nobody has seen him since. Must have been quite the fight if they only bring him now.”

“There’s no chance we can escape with two people who aren’t able to walk”, Dexter said. “We’d be much too slow.”

Silence. Everybody knew he was right. They could risk it. It wouldn’t have been the first time they’d attempted an escape with several of their own hurt or unconscious. But if they wanted even the slightest chance at stopping Corvo they couldn’t risk losing more people.


	17. Ghosts From the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lagrima and Mila - an old friendship, a family even. Can it be saved?

Lagrima groaned in pain as she was dragged along. Drawn didn’t care how often she stumbled and staggered. He tugged at Lagrima’s arm to keep her moving. Lagrima tried to focus on her surroundings so she would be able to remember the way but she had her hands full with staying on her feet. When they finally reached the truss catwalk, Lagrima was trembling and white as a sheet. Drawn pushed through into the office without knocking. The first thing Lagrima saw was Mila Corvo sitting at the desk, sorting through some papers.

Drawn kicked the back of Lagrima’s knees and the girl went down. Panting, holding her stomach, Lagrima knelt in front of the massive desk. She wanted to hold her head high in defiance but somehow her chin ended up on her chest anyway. She trembled, unsure if it was from pain or fear. Maybe both.

“Leave us.”

Lagrima heard the doors click shut and silence settled over the office. She knew Mila was watching her. She wondered if she would really kill her, now that she had her at her mercy. Even after everything Mila had inflicted on her, it seemed a step too much. She wouldn’t go that far, would she?

“You’re still as predictably righteous as ever”, Mila opened up the conversation. She had switched to Italian immediately. “Reckless and selfless, too.”

Lagrima tensed when she heard Mila get up and round the table and flinched when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Let me see.”

Lagrima lifted her head and finally looked at Mila. Her tone had been softer and her eyes were not as cold as she had expected. Lagrima still eyed her warily but removed her arm so Mila could lift her T-shirt and take a quick look at the improvised bloody bandages. Almost carefully, almost gently, Mila removed the strips of Skulduggery’s shirt and traced the wounds with her fingertips. Where she touched the skin, a thin layer of ink covered the cuts, effectively keeping the blood in. Lagrima remembered Mila always staunching the blood with ink first before applying healing mud. There had been a lot of occasions Mila had to treat Lagrima who went off having adventures as a child. The memories came rushing back now, happy memories and for a moment Lagrima was back in Italy when Mila had still been Mila.

“Don’t think I had a change of heart. It would be a shame if you died now before my grand moment.”

The nostalgic bubble burst and Lagrima chastised herself for thinking they could ever go back. But she also knew that deep down she would keep wishing. She fought to control her emotions which threatened to get the better of her and barely noticed the pain slowly dying away. Only when her shoulder stopped screaming she realised Mila must have used rune-magic on her. A show of pity perhaps? A mistake?

“Why do you need me to watch?”

Mila stood and sat on the edge of her desk. Lagrima noticed the disorder on the surface and almost smiled. Mila was still as chaotic in her work as she had always been. Papers were about to slide off the sides and books piled on every free spot. “I love you, Lagrima. You were always at my side, always believed in me, always supported and helped me. Those big green eyes of yours sparkled whenever I told you stories or read you books. You were my first audience and you will be my last. The sun is setting and in half an hour I will use the amulet to destroy the walls between two dimensions to learn the ultimate truth. I will tell you one last story before I leave you forever.”

Lagrima scoffed. “You sound even crazier than I anticipated. I still had hope, you know? I had hope that I could talk you out of this crazy plan and convince you to come back home with me. All these years I wondered what I did to deserve the pain you inflicted on me. What horrible crime I committed that made you hate me so. I wanted to make it right. Even after you almost killed me I yearned for our lives to be as before. Back home. I think I know now what happened. This isn’t you, Mila.”

Mila raised an eyebrow as Lagrima struggled to her feet but didn’t stop her. “Us together again? Lagrima, _passerrotto_ , that will never happen. You decided upon a path so different from my own. I tried to show you but your mind was too small to understand.”

“My mind is perfectly fine and I think yours is as well. Baron Vengeous has corrupted you and shown you illusions of the absolute truth and the Faceless Ones -”

Mila scoffed. “Even there I had been right. They exist and almost crossed over to our world.”

“And what happened? If Pleasant and Cain had not stopped them and shut the portal again they would have destroyed our world. I read the report. Pleasant described their world as a desolate plain, hot and unforgiving. Drained of all life and those who did survive, went mad. Not even you would have liked that!”

“This is different.”

Lagrima swayed again as she took a hasty step towards Mila. “How? Tell me how! You're going to tear a hole in the fabric of our reality and invite monsters to do as they please. There is no truth in the Otherworld but constant bliss and endless possibilities. What you want is one truth. In the Otherworld you will find billions of truths.”

Mila actually looked surprised. “You did your research well. I'm almost impressed. But you're wrong. There is only one truth and I'm determined to find it. Absolute knowledge. The secret of the universe.”

Lagrima put on an expression of defiance. A broken mask of spite if you will. “I cannot allow it. I will stop you.”

“Will you now? You and those _friends_ of yours? These men who didn’t think twice to use you as a decoy, to have you take the most dangerous jobs? They are not your friends!”

“They came back for me once. They will come back for me again. They are fighting their way through to this office as we speak.” Lagrima sounded as confident as she felt which was not very confident at all. She would never admit it but she had no idea whether the Dead Men would actually appear.

**ooOoOoo**

The Dead Men were not fighting their way through to the office. They were still sitting in their tiny prison and discussing further steps that needed to be taken. First they had to break out. Drawn had – unbelievable! - fortified the door and neither Dexter nor Anton were able to kick it down. Noah had suggested he crawl through the vents like in a cool spy novel and had been quite disappointed to learn that the cellar had no ventilation shafts. In the end Skulduggery picked the lock.

Their next problem was that they had no idea where the final showdown would take place. The roof? The warehouse itself? The office? Outside? As if on cue everyone turned to Saracen who rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know where they are.”

Larrikin grinned. “Saracen’s power is weakening.”

“Shut up and find a guard or something. I want to punch someone.”

Noah cleared his throat. “I … uh, they are on the roof.”

The Dead Men stared. 

Dexter squinted before glancing at his husband. “Is Saracen rubbing off?”

“No but I heard Corvo say she needed the last light of the sun for the ceremony. She could go outside but then she would be unprotected and an easy target. This building doesn’t have enough windows to provide her with what she needs. The best possible option is the roof.”

“I said it before and I’ll say it again. I like you”, Skulduggery said and turned to face his friends. “Ok, squad, this is how it goes. We storm the roof and take out everyone who stands in our way. We will probably be overrun and beaten but if we are really lucky our missing Dead Men will save us in the nick of time.”

Silence. Anton sighed.

**ooOoOoo**

Ghastly and Ravel were trying their best to save their friends in the nick of time. But at the moment they were still trying to sneak past the guards at the warehouse. They were late. Of course they were. Fletcher had still not been found and the Elders were unable to call for reinforcements and the much needed memory alteration specialists.

The streets had been empty The atmosphere that hung above the town was laden and dark as though a storm were brewing and people were thankfully staying inside.

“What’s our plan?” Ravel wanted to know.

“You know, we get inside, look for our friends and stop Corvo. If you think about it, it shouldn’t be too hard.

“We don’t have a plan, do we?”

“Not really, no. But I think we work best that way.”

Ravel sighed. “Skulduggery surely would agree.” He stopped dead in his tracks. “Looks like Dexter had the same idea last time he was here.”

Ghastly saw the hole burned into the fence, the molten edges unmistakably the remnants of energy. “Let’s go. The sun is setting and we are running out of time.”


	18. The Last Ray of the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The showdown. The final battle.

Everything was ready. Well, almost. The human sacrifice still had to be brought up to the roof but Drawn was already seeing to it. Corvo inspected the rune circle one last time and checked the incantation she would need to drain the magical artefacts in the warehouse down below of their powers. She squinted up into the orange sky. The sun was setting fast but she still had some time left.

“It’s not too late to stop, Mila!”, Lagrima shouted. “You don’t have to go through with this. This isn’t you!” She desperately tried to loosen Yedra’s grip on her arm but the Elemental only pushed her to the ground and aimed a pistol at her head.

“Stay put, little sparrow”, she hissed and Lagrima did. Sweat was pouring down her face and she could feel her body tremble. Slowly, slowly her magic was returning. Agonizingly slow. Too slow. Nobody had wasted magic-binding cuffs on the weak mage. Lagrima was in no state to even lighten a match. She backed away as Yedra leaned down but the Elemental grabbed her braid and tugged sharply. Lagrima clenched her teeth and glared at Yedra.

“Where are they? I can’t make a move on either Corvo or Ciardha as long as I am alone against two. Ciardha watches like a hawk. She’ll see me coming miles away.” Yedra hissed in her ear and shook Lagrima for good measure before pushing her back down.

“How the hell would I know?” Lagrima’s voice was no more than a whisper as she tried to fight Yedra off. “Aren’t you always going on about loving a good fight? See it as a challenge.”

“Don’t get cocky with me”, Yedra snapped and slapped Lagrima. The girl couldn’t tell whether it was for show or if she was actually pissed. Lagrima glared at Yedra but stopped fighting back.

Suddenly there was a commotion at the entrance to the roof and Drawn stumbled through the door, collapsing on the concrete. He didn’t get up. Behind him the Dead Men and Noah appeared. Showy and airy as always. A breeze caught in Skulduggery’s suit jacket and let it billow epically behind him. They were armed with anything they’d found on their way up to the roof: wrenches, bits of pipes and broken broomsticks. Somehow they still pulled off the look of a menacing military squad. If the safety of the world didn’t depend on it Lagrima would have appreciated the epicness of the situation. The Dead Men immediately fanned out, drawing closer to the rune circle where Corvo was starting the incantation.

“Anton, Erskine, the Necromancer. Keep her busy”, Skulduggery ordered while running towards Mila. “Saracen, Dexter, Ghastly with me. Larrikin, get Lagrima out of here. Don’t do anything reckless!”

“Aye!”

“Too slow”, Mila stood in the middle of her rune circle. Ciardha suddenly was at her side and before her, on his knees, Noah. “You're too late. We found a little mouse scuttling about. A shame, I really wanted Saracen to open the portal for me. It would have been the perfect match, a mage whose power is to know, paving the way for me to reach absolute truth and knowledge. But the mortal will have to do.”

The Dead Men stopped their advance. Noah had been behind them just moments ago. The Necromancer was faster than they had anticipated. The receptionist was trembling in Ciardha’s grip but tried to put on a brave face.

“Let him go and take me instead”, Saracen said, inching carefully closer to Corvo. “It still can be like you imagined this moment to be. Just let him go.”

Corvo smiled and touched the rim of the rune circle. The sun set.

“No!” Lagrima screamed as a shadow spear drove into Noah’s back. He opened his mouth in a futile attempt to talk. His face screwed up in pain and he crumpled to the ground once Ciardha called her shadow back. Noah gasped and coughed, trembling fingers fumbling at his shirt. They came away red.

The ground shook and the runes started to glow, drawing up a wall of light. With an explosion the light burst outwards, engulfing the entire landscape. The Dead Men were thrown to the ground, blinded by the light. Only when it had died down to a greenish shimmer in the air, could they make out what Corvo had summoned. Where the rune circle had been now stood a massive gate flanked by two pillars. Three steps led up to an iron cast door. And the gate was opening.

**ooOoOoo**

Erskine was back on his feet as soon as the light had dimmed. “We’re too late”, he said as he helped Ghastly up.

“Maybe we can contain it. There is always a possibility to contain whatever it is that is crawling through that portal.” Ghastly hoped that it really could be contained. He couldn’t think of a time when two dimensions had merged before. Why did these kind of things always have to happen in Ireland?

Anton and Erskine were trying to fend off Ciardha who had made it her job to keep them away from Corvo. Fireballs and shadows drifted over the roof and everyone was shouting. Yedra had moved away from Lagrima the moment the Dead Men had burst onto the roof and had been trying to get close to Corvo.

“Larrikin, help Anton and Erskine. Ciardha is too strong. I’ll deal with whatever comes through that gate”, Yedra shouted as she saw Larrikin approach with two thin metal pipes in his hands. She looked behind her but Lagrima had gone. When she let her gaze wander she spotted her cower over the injured, unmoving form of Noah at the feet of the gate’s steps, frantically trying to staunch the bleeding.

“Noah! Noah? Noah?! No, no, no, no, don’t die. Come on, you got so far in your first adventure! Don’t throw that away! Noah? Noah!” Lagrima cursed as his blood kept running through her fingers. She felt a hand on her arm and looked down to see Noah trying to push her away. “Oh no, you don’t!”

“I … am already … dead. I’ve read … a lot of anatomy books … to know that … I won’t – won’t make it. Leave … me. Stop Corvo.” Noah coughed and blood trickled down his chin.

“Don’t give up! Not now! Noah!” Lagrima felt tears running down her cheeks as she desperately tried to stop the bleeding. Noah gasped and then he closed his eyes. “No!! Noah!!” Lagrima sobbed and pressed her forehead against Noah’s chest.

Lagrima felt two strong hands gently grab her shoulders and pull her away from Noah’s body. The girl was still crying when she turned to look at Ghastly. “She killed him”, she whispered. “Just like that. Like he was nothing. He was not even a mage.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But you have to be strong now. We have to stop this. Nothing can slip through that gate or more people will die. We’ll have time to mourn Noah but right now I need your help to seal the breach. Lagrima, are you listening to me?” Ghastly grabbed her shoulders tighter. “Lagrima, I’m so sorry but I need your help!”

Lagrima stared at him blankly. Before she could answer the doors of the gate smashed open entirely and a howling wind tore through. Bright, menacing laughter danced on the storm. A shadow appeared in the gateway. A figure stepped out of the light, the roaring wind didn’t do more than gently caress their long hair. Sharp features that were fair and beautiful in a horrifying way. Neither male nor female and both at the same time. Dark and cruel eyes that knew no pity. They held out a hand. A beautiful, fair hand that offered a better life, a life full of bliss and knowledge.

Mila Corvo was about to take the first step of the stairs towards the Fay, inky figures shielding her from the Dead Men who tried to get closer. Every attack was met with a wall of ink, no matter what they tried. “Mila, no! Don’t go with them! They’ll kill you!” Skulduggery doubled his efforts to break through Corvo’s ink-barrier but was pushed back time after time. Energy smashed into the wall and when he looked round, he saw Dexter and Saracen advancing on the figures.

“Why is she still so strong? She should have depleted her magic by now!” Dexter shouted, releasing more streams of energy.

“She must have absorbed crazy amounts of power from the magical artefacts”, Skulduggery shouted back. “Somehow she has become linked to the gate, drawing power from it while at the same time keeping it open with magic.”

The wind howled louder as the Fay took another step toward Mila. Ghastly cursed and sprang to his feet, running towards Skulduggery. They had to push the Fay back inside the portal or they would wreak havoc in the mortal world. 

Behind him, Lagrima slowly got to her feet, swaying for a moment before finding her balance. She was trembling, hot white fury raging inside her. She could feel it coursing through her veins, fighting for control. And with one last glance at Noah, she didn’t want to hold it in any more. “CIARDHA!” Lagrima roared over the thundering wind. Her arms were shrouded in electricity and her eyes seemed to glow. Slowly she started walking towards the Necromancer. Jagged wisps and tendrils of bluish-white light erupted from her fingertips, twitching about her body. Lagrima gave another roar and threw herself at Ciardha. “You killed him! He was innocent!” she shouted, her anger fuelling her magic. It was like she was on fire.

“Watch out!” Larrikin tackled Anton to the ground, barely managing to avoid the first wave of electricity roaring their way. Lagrima unleashed one attack after the other, giving Ciardha no time to recover. She waved her hand to dismiss a shadow spear as though she were swatting a fly away. The light tore into the shadow, cracking it, shattering it. And she realised, there was something that could kill even the blackest darkness. Electricity filled the air as Lagrima released a wave so powerful she tore away part of the building. Ciardha tried to leap to the side but was too slow. Lagrima’s magic slammed into her, the shadows desperately trying to absorb the energy. Ciardha’s skin cracked and tore, darkness leaking out. And then it was too much to contain and then the Necromancer shattered into black shards of shadows.

_“Lagrima.”_

The girl heard her name whispered on the wind, not a storm any longer but a soft breeze that felt cold on her sweaty face. She shivered and looked up to the gate where Mila had taken the Fay’s hand and was now standing beside them on the threshold to the Otherworld. A wind barrier kept the Dead Men from reaching Corvo now. Her ink had vanished.

_“Lagrima. I'm sorry.”_ Not more than a whisper, carried by the wind but to Lagrima it could as well have been a scream, a shout. She took another step towards the gate but Mila shook her head. _“This is not what you would want, my dear. I can see everything now. I'm sorry. I’ve wronged you. I hope you can forgive me one day.”_

“No!” Lagrima screamed as Mila turned and walked into the blinding sunlight streaming from the gate, her hand still holding the Fay’s. The girl took another swaying step and finally stumbled across the roof towards the iron doors that were closing. “No, come back! Please, come back!” This was the Mila she had known all those years ago, the woman that would always smile. The thought that Lagrima would loose her after she had seen a peek of the old Mila, her Mila, was too much to bear. This couldn’t be happening! Not like this!

Lagrima could feel her wounds reopening. The ink that had sealed them until now had evaporated. Blood started to seep through her shirt once more and Lagrima took a last swaying step towards the steps. The gate shut with a final _boom_ and vanished. Anton caught Lagrima as her strength finally ran out and her knees gave in.


	19. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of our mages will need some time to get over what they went through over the past few days.

Lagrima woke slowly, willing her mind to go back to sleep. But the further she buried her head in the pillows, the more thoughts began to push inside her head. And with the thoughts came the guilt and the grief. She rubbed her eyes which felt puffy and swollen from crying. After everything that happened Lagrima had been content enough to drift in and out of consciousness as the Dead Men took care of things around her. It made her feel even guiltier but she simply didn’t have any strength left in her. She vaguely remembered the ride back into town but after that everything was a blank.

Carefully, Lagrima sat up with a groan as her tired muscles protested the movement. She pried her eyes open long enough to take in her surroundings in a quick sweep. Elegant furnishings, tasteful paintings on the wall opposite the bed, a door to an adjoining bathroom. She had been brought to the _Midnight Hotel_. Lagrima caught herself feeling relief at the thought of not having to wake up at Noah’s place. She didn’t think she would have handled that well. Noah had grown on her over the last couple of days and his death – 

No, she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on this. Not now. Not while there was still so much to do, so much to clean up.

_Mila is gone._

The thought came unbidden and Lagrima screwed her eyes shut against the pain and grief that surely would overwhelm her but strangely, there was just a peaceful feeling of relief. Mila was truly gone and couldn’t hurt her any more. Yes, in her last moments before she had stepped over the threshold into the Otherworld she had been the old Mila, the one Lagrima had come to love, the one she had looked up to as a child. She would always love Mila for what she had given her but she finally realised that the pain Mila had caused her, the betrayal, ran too deep and Lagrima would’ve never been able to go back out of fear that she might plunge back into the abyss. Mila had gone her way and Lagrima would find her own in due time. She felt as though a heavy burden had been lifted off her shoulders now that Mila was gone. It would still take some time until Lagrima would be able to truly push Mila to the back of her head but it was a good start.

Carefully, Lagrima sat up and noticed how weak she still was. Her injuries had healed completely but her magic still needed time. She had overdone it by far when she had faced Ciardha. That rage had unlocked depths of magic within her she hadn’t known she possessed. Looking back it scared her knowing that if provoked enough she could unleash this force again. She hadn’t changed at all since her electricity had shown itself for the first time. Lagrima had been angry, hurt and betrayed and she had lashed out.

Lagrima buried her face in her hands. She had almost killed Anton and Larrikin in her fury and in that moment she hadn’t cared who stood in her way. What was a human’s breaking point?

_No! She wouldn’t dwell on this, would not let her thoughts drag her down!_

Lagrima slowly swung her legs out of bed and only now noticed the layers of bandages wrapped tightly around her torso. Her skin would be all sorts of blue and black at this point. Carefully, she put more weight on her trembling legs and slid out of bed, shuffling over to her bag. Armed with two bruise-removing stones she dragged herself into the bathroom.

An hour under a hot shower had certainly done some damage to the environment but it had done wonders for Lagrima. She felt refreshed although nowhere near her full strength yet. She quickly gathered her still-wet hair in a messy plait and let it fall down her shoulder not bothering with blow-drying it. It was the least of her problems right now.

Lagrima headed to the door and peeked out into the empty corridor. She drew the door close behind her and headed in the direction she suspected the stairs. When she reached the landing she could make out voices and laughter. A flash of anger tore through Lagrima. How could the Dead Men be laughing? Had they already moved on? Was that what the War did to soldiers? Made them close themselves off from everything around them? Somehow that didn’t want to fit Lagrima’s image of the Dead Men at all.

An image of Noah popped into her mind, smiling, a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. Almost instantly the image switched to Noah lying on the concrete of the warehouse roof. Blood gushing from his wound. Lagrima screwed her eyes shut, willing the flashes of memory away. Noah hadn’t been a mage, nor a warrior. All he wanted to do was help.

“Oh, you’re finally awake!” Saracen exclaimed as Lagrima shuffled into the lobby where the Dead Men were reclining on the couches. Lagrima quickly looked to her feet, tears stinging at her eyes and she could feel her throat close up. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up. Especially since Noah didn’t want to share how he survived before we were complete again.”

“What?” Lagrima croaked and lifted her head again to stare at Saracen in horror.

Saracen moved to let her gaze over the Dead Men once more and only now she realised there were two gingers. Lagrima almost laughed when she saw that he was holding a cup of hot chocolate. Such a typical thing for him to do. Noah had died and here he was, smiling and slurping hot chocolate as though nothing had ever happened.

The Dead Men laughed when they saw Lagrima wipe away her tears and cross the distance between her and Noah in a few wobbly steps to hug him. Noah made a surprised sound and almost spilled hot chocolate all over the fancy couches and himself. Then a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “What do you say about having a lovely cup of hot chocolate?”

“How are you alive? I saw you die! You died in my arms!” Lagrima accused once she had sank into the armchair Larrikin gave up for her. He squeezed himself between Anton and Skulduggery who huffed disgruntled. 

Noah winced. “I’m sorry I made you worry. But it’s not like you’re wrong. I died two days ago.”

“How?”

“When Corvo opened the portal the gatekeeper demanded a soul and she refused because it would mean to stay with the keeper until the rest of eternity. I realised that without a soul the doorway would remain open and gave them my soul.”

“You sacrificed yourself? For us?”

Noah blushed. “Well, if you put it like that then I guess I did. I was just thinking about my home and how awful it would be if monsters roamed it. Since I’d already died I figured I could as well sell my soul for the safety of this dimension.”

“How long have I been asleep? I’m starving. Sorry but I have to get some food before we continue this.”

“Two days”, Ghastly offered. “When you wouldn’t wake we started to worry but Erskine figured you had overdone it on the magic and simply had to restore your energy.”

“I’ll get you something. Anton has a superbly stocked kitchen”, Dexter offered and pushed out of his armchair. He blew Anton a kiss when he noticed the dirty look he was giving him.

Skulduggery shifted closer towards the edge of the couch as Larrikin subtly tried to push him off entirely. He pointed at her still wet hair. “You’re going to catch a cold. May I?” He started waving his hands when Lagrima nodded, drawing the water out of her hair until it was dry.

“Thanks. I miss this part about being an Elemental. I once tried to dry my hair with electricity because I thought it was close enough to fire.”

Ghastly laughed. “What happened?”

“Burned it off. I had to wear wigs for a few weeks”, Lagrima answered with a laugh and grabbed one of the plates overflowing with food Dexter offered her. “Ok, I’m good to go. What did I miss? How exactly did you manage to get back if you died and even sacrificed your soul?”

Noah had been following the commotion and banter with an easy smile. After having seen the Dead Men fight together and deal with the aftermath of a magical battle, he had gotten quite used to being around them. He had quickly learned to ignore their bickering and not to worry if either of them seemed annoyed or angry even. Each of them had their own personality and they were bound to get on one another’s nerves but there was an ease to their relationship that only true friends developed.

Ghastly and Erskine had done their best at abusing their power and status to get out of most of the paperwork that followed the disaster of an entire ordinary town witnessing an open battle between mages. Of course each of the Dead Men had been questioned by Sanctuary officials but their reports varied so much from each other that the detectives had given up. In the end all Ghastly had to do was write a short report, outlining the major incidents, and have Erskine sign it. Memory alteration specialists had been called in, as well as clean-up crews. One hectic afternoon later the town had gone back to their ordinary self, no trace of magic left. Well, almost ... 

“At first I had no idea where I was but I felt so comfortable. There was a shining light and the most beautiful city I’ve ever seen. I knew there was bliss and knowledge. A place for me where I could read books and be welcomed.”

“You’ve been to the Otherworld? Beyond the gate?” Dexter echoed.

Noah nodded. “It was beautiful but scary at the same time I felt right at home. Almost as though I had always been there. The city called out to me, welcoming me but something still held me back. And that’s when I met the Morrígan.”

The Dead Men and Lagrima stared. “You what now?”

“She told me that I didn’t belong in the Otherworld and that she’s sending me back, soul and everything. I was right! Morrígan is a title, her face kept changing between the three goddesses”, Noah exclaimed proudly. “She explained that when I touched the amulet, Babh couldn’t take my weapon and Nemain couldn’t kill me because I had never taken a life before.”

Saracen frowned. “But when you touched the amulet it should have drawn your weapon. Does that mean you don’t have one?”

“Exactly. I’m not a mage, I don’t have military training. The Morrígan could have taken my books, my knowledge because words are power but she didn’t. Perhaps she didn’t consider this as a weapon. In the end, Macha was the only one who was able to use her power on me.”

“What did she give you? Macha’s the one to distribute, right?” Dexter asked, intrigued. All of them hung at Noah’s lips, dying to know what gift he had received from the goddesses.

Noah smiled. “The Morrígan said I should continue to read and learn. And to have enough time to collect all of the knowledge books have to offer, she gave me immortality.”

Silence.

“She gave you immortality”, Ghastly echoed, incredulous.

“You came back from the Otherworld”, Skulduggery said thoughtfully. “Does that mean you cannot die even if you are killed?”

Noah shrugged. “I suppose, yes. The Morrígan said that if I should ever find myself in the Otherworld again, she’d be waiting. Presumably to send me back.”

Lagrima grinned. “So you’re basically an Adept now. A strange Adept, but an Adept all the same.”

Erskine cocked his head with a smile. “Welcome to the world of sorcerers, Noah. You’re truly one of us now.”

“Appreciated.”

“So what are you going to do now?” Anton asked.

“I’m not sure. On one hand I’d really love to keep running the hotel having grown up here and everything. I also have a mind of founding a library, now that I really have the time.”

Lagrima smiled. “That sounds great, Noah. Anything we can do to help?”

“No, you’ve done enough! But you’re always welcome to stay should you find yourselves in these parts.”

“Thanks, Noah. We couldn’t have done this without you”, Dexter said. “You have a mind for literature, for stories and legends. You should found a library. Perhaps expand your hotel. We’d be happy to drop by from time to time to do some research.”

“Reminds me of another librarian”, Skulduggery said.

Erskine snorted. “Yeah but Noah won’t try to trick you out of your money and valuables.”

“What, China really did that to you?” Larrikin laughed. “I thought that was just a joke.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

As Erskine and Larrikin started bickering Ghastly turned to Lagrima. “How about you? What are you going to do now?”

Lagrima shrugged. “I don’t know. Now that Mila is gone I feel like a huge burden has been lifted off my shoulders. Maybe I’ll travel, help out here and there. No more Sanctuary work for a few weeks, this job nearly cost me everything.”

“It’s been a rough couple days for you and I’m sure you could use a lot more rest. How about you stay a little longer at Anton’s? If you ask nicely enough he’ll let you stay for free.” Saracen winked at Lagrima.

“If you tell more people that I let friends stay for free your husband will end up a widower sooner than he thinks”, Anton growled in response. Saracen only grinned at him.

“Thank you, Shudder but I wouldn’t want to be a bother”, Lagrima said with a smile. “Besides, someone promised me a reading night when all this was over.”

A short moment of confused silence before Noah started laughing. “You remembered our _‘Lord of the Rings’_ reading night! I should warn you, though. The book has over a thousand pages so you might want to stay for a few days.”

Lagrima smiled. “I’d like that.”


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Otherworld.

_Everything was dark. Noah couldn’t see a thing and yet he felt as though he could see just fine. How was this possible? A plain stretched out before him and in the distance, just on the verge of the horizon he could make out a city, a shimmering palace overlooking the bustling of people. The sun was rising above the white walls of the palace and the darkness faded even further. Noah didn’t really see people but he knew they were there. He looked around. He was standing on a green hill that gently sloped down to meet a dirt road. Noah knew it led to the city he was seeing in the distance with its vibrant merry making and endless bliss._

_The gentle chime of silver bells and laughter carried over the wind and suddenly the city was much closer. Had he moved without realising it? No, he was still standing on top of his small hill but it was as though the distance had just shrunk to accommodate his thoughts. Noah took a step towards the shimmering city, towards people and happiness. He felt a smile on his lips as he imagined joining a lively market, finding the nearest library and staying for the remainder of the day. Another step. Or perhaps the remainder of his life?_

_Suddenly, he heard the clapping of hooves. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from the shimmering white city that promised knowledge and bliss but still stumbled down the hill to await the rider on the road. Somehow it seemed like the proper thing to do. When the black horse was close enough, Noah could see that the long flowing hair of the mare had been decorated by plaits and had metal beads woven into them. They jingled when the mare threw her head back._

_“What are you doing here, mortal?”_

_Noah stared up at the woman and blinked in surprise. Her voice was that of three women speaking simultaneously. “I … where am I?”_

_The woman cocked her head and a black plait fell over her shoulder as she stroked her horse’s neck. “I think you know.”_

_Noah glanced at the shimmering city and listened to the laughter in the distance with longing. He knew he’d be welcome among the people of this fabled land. This could be no other place than the Otherworld. But that meant that he died or had he been pulled through the gate when Corvo had opened it? A small voice inside him piped up, warning him of the Fae, of their laughter and their silver bells. Noah sighed and tore his gaze away from the city. He shrank back. The woman’s face had changed. “How- ?”_

_The woman laughed with her multiple voices. It sounded ethereal but neither evil nor unpleasant. She descended and took Noah in with a long look. When she still wouldn’t say anything Noah started to fidget. Finally, the woman started to speak again._

_“I knew you had promise, mortal. As soon as you touched my amulet I could tell. It hasn’t been in a very long time that Macha had been able to give without Babh taking first.”_

_Noah smiled. “So I guessed correctly. You are the Morrígan!”_

_The woman’s face changed again and she smiled down at him. “Indeed.” Then her smile faltered. “You shouldn’t be here.”_

_“I died. Mila Corvo used me to open a portal to this magnificent place and I sacrificed my soul so the keeper would close the gate again”, Noah said to his own surprise. Was this what had happened? Yes, his memories were coming back now. Mila had refused to give her soul completely to the keeper as toll._

_The Morrígan frowned disapprovingly. “Yes, she is being dealt with. Even though she saw clarity when the sun of the Otherworld touched her, she must be punished for endangering both our worlds. But as I said, you shouldn’t be here, even if you sacrificed your soul. It was not meant to be.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“When you touched the amulet, Nemain couldn’t kill you because you were pure of heart and hadn’t shed blood amongst your enemies. Babh couldn’t take your weapon because you don’t have any. Macha gave you what you desired most.”_

_Noah remained silent for a long time. “That can’t be right. I already have what I’ve always wanted. I have a nice home, I now have friends and I have my books.”_

_“You are still mortal.”_

_Noah stared at the Morrígan, eyes big and unbelieving. “You can’t mean …?”_

_The Morrígan smiled again. “Read your books, dive into a thousand worlds. You don’t belong here.” She stretched out her hand and drew a rune on his arm. It shimmered and pulsed and when she touched it again, Noah felt a strong wind tear at his clothes. “Should you find yourself here again, I’ll be waiting. You don’t belong here, Noah.” The last word was no more than a whisper on the wind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed my story, it took me three fucking years to complete. Let me know what you think down below! =) Thanks for reading!


End file.
